Lost Friends, Found Lovers
by JacintaMarina
Summary: Nigel is recruited to partner up with a well connected Canadian lawyer with a British working visa who is searching for her missing childhood friend. However, as they work together, they just might find more than old friends. NTOC.
1. Chapter 1

A/N hey all.. I noticed there's just about nothing about our favourite criminalist, so here we go.. I'm not good at updating, just so you're aware, so don't hate me! but enjoy! I own nothing, and, R&R svp. Ciao! JM

Timeline: Post JD Polloc's murder (jordan didn't do it); Lily and Bug are involved; Jordan and Woody are being... Well, jordan and woody relationship wise...rolls eyes...

* * *

As she was filling out paperwork, Lily Lebowski heard a knock on the doorframe of the conference room where she was sitting. Looking up, she saw a striking brunette carrying a briefcase. 

'Excuse me,' the brown-haired woman started politely, 'but I'm looking for Dr Garret Macy?'

'Oh, sure, I'll go grab him, Miss…?' Lily said, standing up.

'Edwards. Farrah Edwards.'

'Alright, Miss Edwards. Please wait here, I'll bring him out.'

'Thanks.' She sat quietly, and turned her attention to a black leather briefcase she held in her hand.

Lily strode up to her boss' open door and knocked quickly. 'Garret? There's a Miss Farrah Edwards waiting for you in Conference.'

'Thanks, Lily,' Dr Macy said, standing up and grabbing an autopsy folder. 'Could you tell Nigel I need him for a special assignment, and to meet us there, too?'

'What am I, a messenger?' was her only reply to Dr Macy's retreating back, and she went in search for Nigel Townsend, the resident criminalist. She found him in trace, prepping DNA samples for testing. 'Hey Nigel, Dr Macy's looking for you. Something about a special assignment. He says to meet him in Conference.'

Putting down the phials, he removed his gloves and replied, 'Thanks, luv. Did he say what it's about?'

Turning and waiting for Nigel to follow her, she replied, 'No, but it's got something to do with the woman that's in there with him. A Miss Farrah Edwards?'

Ringing no bells, Nigel shook his head and headed into the Conference room where Dr Macy and Miss Edwards were talking.

'Welcome to Boston, Miss Edwards. I hope you had a nice flight.' Dr Macy asked.

'Thank you, Doctor, and yes, the flight was lovely. But let's not pussyfoot, doctor, I trust you know why I'm here?'

'Yes, of course, and I'm sorry for your loss.'

Figuring this was as good a time as any, Nigel made his presence known, and strode in. 'You rang, Dr M?'

Turning in his seat, Dr Macy nodded to Nigel, 'Ah, Nigel, good. Miss Edwards, this is Doctor Nigel Townsend, our criminalist. Nigel, this is Farrah Edwards, you'll be helping her with a missing persons case.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr Townsend,' Farrah said, standing and holding out her arm.

Subtly noting the lack of wedding ring, Nigel replied, 'The pleasure's all mine, luv, and please, call me Nigel.'

'And me Farrah.'

The two held eye contact longer than necessary, and finally Dr Macy broke the silence. 'Well, Miss Edwards, please know that the Boston morgue and police department is here to help. But I'll leave you two to discuss the case.'

'Thank you for everything, Dr Macy.' Smiling, she shook his hand.

'My pleasure.' He replied, and, after giving Nigel a warning look, left the two alone.

Turning back to Nigel, Farrah started, 'so, Nigel, do you know what you're doing here?'

Smiling cheekily, Nigel replied, 'helping with a missing person's case?'

Returning the smile, she continued, 'Fast learner. I like that. Yes, you will be helping me locate the sister of one of your former John Does.'

'Former, as in you're here to identify him?' Nigel motioned for Farrah to follow.

'Yes,' she replied, collecting her things. 'His name is – was – Peter Whithall.' She handed him a clipping from a Canadian newspaper and a missing persons report, as well as the autopsy form Dr Macy had brought her. 'His sister, Sarah Katherine, was a good friend of mine. Almost eight years ago, they disappeared, never to be seen again.'

'Until now?' Nigel finished for her, and opening the Crypt door for her.

'Precisely. Peter was found in a crime-infested area here in Boston. We – that is, her family and I – are hoping she's still alive somewhere, maybe near where her brother was found. They were very close.'

Standing in front of drawer 2, Nigel turned to her and said, 'you sure you wouldn't rather do this by photograph?'

'Just open it.' She snipped, concentrating on the door.

The stainless steel drawer slid out silently, and Nigel pulled back a bleach-white sheet to reveal a tall, blond twenty-something.

They stood in silence for a moment, until Farrah murmured, 'yes, that's him. Hopefully his sister isn't in here somewhere.' She tore her eyes away from the body, and continued, 'can you look up all Jane Does, Caucasian, between twenty two and thirty, natural dirty blonde hair, with AB blood type in the past eight years?'

'Am I tall?' Nigel replied, closing the drawer and leading Farrah to the computer room.

'It depends.'

'On?'

'Where you're from.'

'Oh?'

'Well, if you were from Northumberland like my grandmother, you'd be average height. If you were Italian, you'd be positively huge.'

'London.'

'Alright, then, you're tall.'

'Told you I could do it.' He motioned towards the screen, and entered the qualifications. 'Do you have a picture? I could search the DMV database to see if she's registered with the state.'

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a curling photograph. 'Will this work?'

'Yeah this'll work.' As he scanned and typed, he snuck looks at Farrah. Petite body, curvaceous, with clear olive skin and waves of deep brown hair. Gorgeous.

'I expect you'd work better if you weren't checking me out, doctor.' Leaning over his shoulder, her eyes had never left the computer screen.

'You're not full Northumbrian,' Nigel commented.

'Well, I would be positively miniscule if I was.'

' I told you where I was from.'

'And where that ridiculous accent came from, I'm sure.'

Laughing, he replied, 'Ridiculous? Not at all. You, however. You're not from around here yourself.'

'No, not exactly.' Nigel raised his eyebrows quizzically and she continued. 'Alright, if it makes you concentrate more on your search. My mother is off-the-boat Italian, my grandmother, Northumbrian, and my grandfather, Turkish.'

'Turkish? Well, that's something you don't see every day.'

'Indeed. My school didn't even have a Turkish flag in the caf. There was every other country, but never Turkish. Slightly insulting.'

'Where'd you go to school?' Nigel prompted, glancing at her.

'Only if you focus.' He turned back to the screen and dramatically typed something on the keyboard. 'Alright. I was born in Toronto, Ontario, in Canada, and I was raised in this random little town you've never heard of. Went to school there, too. Went to University of Toronto, and did an exchange to Oxford. Law school, part abroad, part Toronto. Got a job with a big firm in London, and now I'm here to find my friend.'

'Oxford, eh? Nice. Our bug specialist went there. What about boyfriends?' Again, he glanced over, and, before she could complain, turned back to the computer screen.

'None to speak of, really. I've been pretty much single since high school, grade eleven. Oh, um, I was sixteen. I don't know what that is in the British system.'

'Sixteen? You've been single for fourteen years?' This time, he didn't turn back.

'Yes, pretty much… sad, isn't it? And you should be facing the screen.'

'Nope, I've just been wasting time to question you. It's just searching now.'

'Ah.'

'And no, it's not sad at all. I know lots of people who stay single 'til they're older.' Nigel stood and leaned beside Farrah.

'Oh yeah? Most of my friends are married, or enjoying single hood… not that there's many of them. I actually planned to have children by now. Silly me.'

'But… what happened?' Nigel asked, leaning in.

'Well, all the guys I met were all stuck up, chauvinistic pigs-of-coworkers, or just sex-driven losers in clubs. None of them were options. And I learned long ago not to date friends… it just ended up in loss of a good friend.' Looking up, she saw her face was barely inches from his.

'Well, let me just say, all those other guys were idiots.' They kept eye contact, and Nigel had just began to move in closer, when-

'Farrah? Farrah Edwards? It can't be!'

The forensic entomologist, Dr Mahesh Vijayaraghavensatyanaryanamurthy hereafter known as 'Bug' had entered the room.

'Hey, Buggles,' Nigel quipped, jumping a foot in the air and sitting back down to tend to the whirring computer.

'No! It can't be!' Farrah replied, smiling in recognition. 'Mahesh! What are you doing here!' she strode across the room and embraced the blushing Bug.

'I'm the forensic entomologist… the bug specialist here. What are _you _doing here? I thought you were going to stay in London?' he hugged her back warmly, and laughed at the coincidence.

'I did! And then I got called home on an emergency, and then I came here.'

'This is great! I've missed you. We haven't kept in touch very well, have we?'

'Apparently not!' Farrah laughed, 'I can't believe I didn't realize you would be here!'

'You should have called…'

Nigel, feeling dejected as the two reminissed, watched the computer as it scanned for Sarah's whereabouts.

And then the computer ding'd.

* * *

A/N me again... so? what do you think? 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Enjoy. Review. Just a note, the season premere? YEAYE! Love it. Anyways, yes, enjoy. #3's in the making... I just need to find an ending for it. Ciao! ttly.

* * *

'I hate to stop this little gab fest, but the computer's found something.' 

'Found something?' Farrah repeated, abandoning her conversation with Bug and leaning over Nigel's shoulder. 'What?'

Nigel turned his chair around to look at her and started, 'See, I scanned the picture into the computer and it compared facial structure, like the width between the eyes, the cheekbones – '

'Nigel. _Nigel. _Stop. No offence, but why do I care how you got it? _What did you find?_ Is she alive?' She was picking at her nails and biting her lip nervously.

'Sorry. Habit. Anyways, yes, she's alive – '

'Thank goodness.'

'And she has a record with the state.'

There was a short pause as he pulled up Sarah's record.

'Sarah was arrested in the red-light district. Soliciting.'

'What did he do to her?' Farrah asked herself quietly.

'Who?'

Shaking herself out of a sort of reverie, she stared at the scowling, sunken face of her once plump and smiling best friend. 'Peter. Her _brother._ He was _supposed _to protect her. Instead, he got her involved with… with _this_. God knows what she's been through. She may have been a right bitch to me, but this all started with him.' She stopped again, took a deep breath, and continued, calmer. 'When was she arrested?'

'Well…' he pressed a few keys, 'she was picked up four months ago.'

'Four months. She was alive four months ago… if she's still in the trade, what are the chances she's still alive?'

Nigel fidgeted slightly.

'Wow. You've done the impossible. He's speechless.' Bug stepped up beside Farrah and put his arm around her shoulders, trying to make her smile.

Ignoring him, she repeated, 'What are the chances?'

'Well, considering she was still alive after almost eight years, I'd say pretty good. Maybe she was just the wrong place, wrong time. She was turned out twenty-four hours later, after she sobered up.'

'She was drunk?'

'High.'

'Oh.'

'You okay?' Bug asked, rubbing her shoulder (as Nigel looked jealously on).

'I expected as much. That's what made me hate Peter so much. He and his suburban 'wangster' buddies got her hooked. That, and… we even saw some bruises on her arm once. We didn't thin anything of it, because that was long after we stopped talking to her – we didn't run in the same crowds anymore… and she was a backstabbing bitch, but we don't talk about that – but I always wondered if it was just me, or did they look like… handprints.'

'There's nothing you could have done, Farrah. Nothing.' Nigel stood up and put his arm around her other side. 'You're doing something now, though. We're going to find her and bring her home and she'll be alright.'

'Yeah,' Bug said, looking oddly at Nigel, 'She's going to be fine.'

'Thanks.' She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she found in her pocket. 'Is there a washroom I could use for a minute?'

'Down the hall, luv.' When she had left, Bug gave Nigel a look of pure death. 'What? It is.'

'Not that, you moron, she's barely been here, what, a few hours, and you've already tried to kiss her! God, do you have a proper, patient bone in your body?!'

'Bug, what are you talking about?' Nigel countered, laughing.

'You! You're unbelievable! How is it you can just… jump in whenever you think a girl is pretty? And she's delicate at the moment! What are you thinking?'

'Bug! It's not like I was forcing her. If she didn't want me to kiss her, she could have stopped me. Not that she wanted to. Stop, that is. She was willing, Bug.'

'That's not the point, Nigel! That point _is_ she's not just some woman you met in a club! She's come here for your help in finding the murderer of her best friend's brother, and her best friend. –'

'Ex.'

'What?'

'Ex best friend. There was an animosity between the two. Weren't you listening?'

'That's not the point!'

'Look, Bug, I'm not going to… to... have a one night stand or anything, that would be unprofessional. And besides, why do you care? You're perfectly happy with Lily, aren't you? Or is there trouble in paradise already?'

'You-!'

'Guys!'

A sharp, light voice ran over them.

'Lily. Hi.' Bug backed up to Nigel's side, who cowered at her scowl.

'What is wrong with you both? I have grieving families out there, and all I can hear if you two arguing. What's going on? Wait. I don't want to know. Just, stop, okay? Bug, you've got a body in Autopsy one. Go. And Nigel, get back to your special assignment. And if I hear you two arguing again, I'm going to Dr Macy. Got it?'

'Yeah. Sorry, luv.' Nigel murmured, as Bug said in a like tone, 'Sorry, Lily.'

Before he was out the door, though, Bug told him, 'I'm watching you.'

Left alone, Nigel muttered to himself, 'Not a proper bone in my body? Pah. Ridiculous.'

* * *

'So, what do we do now? I'm a lawyer, I'm not usually involved in crime-fighting by any means – that is, unless, we're talking some sleezy businessmen.' Farrah had returned, calm and collected, ready and eager to start looking for Sarah. 

Nigel picked a piece of paper off the printer and replied, 'Well, I've printed out the corner where she was found.' Thinking of Jordan's tactics, he continued, 'We could drive down there and ask around. See if anyone's seen her.'

'Sounds good to me. Shall I drive?' She stood by the door, hand outstretched to check the map.

'What car do you have?'

'Rental. Mini Cooper.'

'I'll drive.' As Nigel stood, he donned his jacket and pulled out a rather large keychain.

'What do _you_ drive that makes it better?'

'Yours is more likely to get stolen than my bike. Not to mention it's faster.'

'A… bike? As in, a motorcycle? Are you nuts?'

'You'll be fine,' he told her, dismissing the loose skirt she wore because of the stockings underneath, 'Plus, it's equipped with a very good GPS and there's a tracker on it, so Woody – Detective Hoyt, rather – can find us quickly. Don't worry. All you have to do is hold on to me. You'll be fine.' He didn't mention that them being that physically close would be rather interesting.

'Fine. But I'm changing first – never mind the fact my skirt would fly up abysmally on motorcycle, no one would talk to us with me dressed like this... you know, lawyer and everything.'

'Slipping into something more comfortable?'

'Something like that. Give me ten minutes.'

* * *

While Farrah changed, Nigel informed Dr Macy of where the two were going, and called Woody to give him a heads up just in case they needed backup. He also printed out the latest photo of Sarah, but cropped off the identifying police lines and billboard so no one would think they were cops. 

When she was done, she strode, slightly self-consciously, into the morgue. Nigel, like a few of the men in the room, couldn't help but do a double take.

'Where is Farrah Edwards, and what have you done with her?' he asked, half joking, half in amazement.

'What are you talking about? Don't tell me you didn't know women had alter-egos from who they are at work!' She smiled shyly, and gestured to her new outfit. From conservative black and ocean blue, she had changed into deep blue jeans and a smokey blue jean jacket. Underneath, she wore a white blouse and olive-green camisole. Poking out from under her jeans was a pair of brown leather semi-stiletto boots, making her look seductive, playful, and terribly attractive.

'Of course I did,' he laughed, watching her earrings tickle the base of her neck, 'but I'm always amazed at the difference.' Holding out his arm, he added, 'Shall we?'

'Lo! and forward into the cold, heartless streets of Boston, then,' she said, taking his arm and being led into the freight elevator.

'What?' he asked, laughing and choosing the appropriate floor.

'Sorry. Habit. I speak as if I were writing a novel sometimes.' She shrugged apologetically, and cast her eyes down, blushing.

'That is the single most bizarre character quirk I have ever come across.'

'I don't know if I should be insulted by that. Especially since… well…' Looking back up, she gestured at him, smiling mischievously.

'And what is that supposed to mean?' he asked, holding her small hand on his arm.

'Just that, you seem the type to have met a fair few people in your line of work, that's all.' She glanced down again, but this time, he was pleased (and rather encouraged) to see that she had looked at his hand covering hers.

'You're sure that's what you meant?' Again, he was contemplating leaning in.

'Perhaps. Or perhaps I was going to say I'm not the only one with odd little quirks. But you'll never know, will you?' Her smile was open and challenging, but what was odd, Nigel could have sworn that he saw restraint and fear in her chocolate eyes.

Of course, as fate would have it, they came to the basement where Nigel's bike was parked.

* * *

'Are you ready?' he asked, waking Farrah up to his bike, placing a helmet on her head, and tightening it for her. 

'No, but I'll do it.' She smiled weakly, and looked down at the vehicle she would be riding on. 'I suppose if a coroner isn't put off by the number of deaths on these things, then I shouldn't be, right?'

'It's never the bike, luv, it's the driver behind the handlebars. Now, you just have to climb on like this…' he helped her reach her short legs over the seat, and showed her how to grip the bike with her legs. Then, he sat in front of her, grabbed her hands, and told her, 'Now, just hold on tight to my chest like this, and try and get as close as possible so no wind can get in between us. You ready?' He looked back at the small figure whose hands were clutched, knuckles white, around his midriff.

He barely heard her voice when she squeaked, 'Yes.'

As the motor roared into life, he heard her squeak, and felt her grip tighten.

Smiling to himself, Nigel Townsend pulled his motorcycle out of the parking space, and into the busy Boston street.

* * *

Now: your job... REVIEW please. Thank you. Jacinta. 


	3. Chapter 3

a/n... yet again... no reviews? thanks. if you don't like it, tell me why!!

* * *

'Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?' Nigel asked as he pulled the motorbike up to a sheltered curb and cut the engine. 

'No, I suppose not.' Farrah was still holding on to his chest, however. 'So we're not going any farther?'

'Not at the moment. 'fraid you're going to have to let go of me if I'm going to help you off, though.' Her grip slowly loosened, and then broke free, her hands sliding gently across the soft leather of his jacket. He dismounted, and turned to help her off. 'Alright, here you are, safe on solid ground… or, not so safe.' He grinned at the top of her head as she fell into his arms. 'It's a little weird the first time you climb off.'

'I feel as weak as a newborn calf!' Her voice was still shaky as she settled herself against his steady embrace.

'You okay?' he asked, holding her back to stop her from falling again.

'Yeah, I think so. Thanks.' Nigel opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Farrah continued brusquely, 'So, where do we start?'

'Well, I suppose we could just wander around and look for local diners, bars, clubs. See if anyone's spotted her lately.' He shrugged and pocketed his keys, setting the alarm.

'Alright. Well, shall we go that way, then? I think I can see red neon from here.' She pointed to the left, and they proceeded down the street.

They walked close together, not speaking. Farrah was hunched slightly against the breeze, and slightly against the rogue eyes of any jeering onlookers. Nigel, again, took this opportunity to look her over. Not rudely (this time), but curiously. She was small, only about 5'5" in her heels, with a petite build – she had obviously not inherited her grandmother's height – and curvaceous features. Her clothing and posture said she could conquer the world if she wanted to, and yet her eyes said she would like nothing better than to be in the protective arms of someone she cared about – or someone who cared about her. The way she laughed and teased him told him she was interested, but the way she would back away told him… what? That she was afraid? It must have been some tragedy that had befallen this girl to turn her off men for fourteen years.

'Um… it's a strip club.' Farrah stated uncertainly, pulling her collar up and nodding towards the flashing neon sign. 'Needless to say, I've had minimal exposure to this type of place.'

'Minimal?' He smiled down at her, but she merely gave him a sarcastic, exasperated look and rolled her eyes. 'Okay, well, we'll just go in, ask the bartender if he's seen her, and if not then we'll go to the next place.'

'Sure. I-I suppose.' Her voice wavered slightly, and she had her arms folded across her (rather ample) chest.

'What's wrong?' Nigel asked, standing in front of her and running his hand down her arm, trying to get her hand in his.

'Just… I feel… weird going into a strip club. I know, it's silly, but… I just… I don't know. It's just. There's going to be guys jeering… and I may be dressed, but I still don't like to be-'

'Hey, hey, look. You're with me.' Affronted by her snort of laughter, he told her, 'you may scoff now, but just remember, height is quite intimidating.'

'I know that well enough. But drunk men'll get violent for lots of things, and they don't care if the other guy could kick their ass from here to Nunavut. Actually, that encourages them.'

'You're a pessimist, you know that?' he told her, still smiling.

'No, just cautious.' She smiled weakly up at him and released her hand into his. 'Alright then, tough guy, let's get this over with. But no bar fights. I know you English and you've earned quite an infamous reputation.'

* * *

They walked through the doors, and the pounding music assaulted them like a dozen cannons. The lights, too, flashed and blinked, giving the dancing girls a frozen in time look. 

'C'mon. This way to the bar.' Nigel surrounded her shoulders to lead her over, so she wouldn't get pulled in by the crowd of leering men.

'How do men enjoy this?' she asked in amazement, trying in vain to block out the music and the sights around her. 'Some of these girls hardly look of age.'

'Man is a simple creature, luv, and can only think with one organ at a time.'

'Brain, stomach, or penis?'

'The order of intelligence. Clever.'

Reaching the bar, Nigel flagged down the bartender, an older man with thinning black hair. 'What can I get you and your… date?'

'Just some information. Ever seen this girl around before?' Nigel produced the picture he had printed out from the precinct, and watched as the bartender as he looked it over.

'Maybe. Why are you looking for her?'

'We want to help her,' Farrah offered quietly (considering her ears were already ringing from the noise around her).

Now looking the pair of them over, he replied, 'Yeah, I know her. Came in here about two weeks ago, begging for work. Said she'd do it all and then some. But we just couldn't take her.'

'Why not? Seems to me business is booming,' Nigel said, noting the full crowd despite it being so early.

'Did you even look at the picture? She may have been pretty, but she's too old for my stage. She tried to sell herself off at twenty two. But I can spot a thirty year old when I see one. And there's no cougars on my poles.'

'D'you know where else she might've gone to get a job around here?'

'With her ass? Look, if I don't hire 'em, I don't look after 'em. Unless I want them all to myself, if you know what I mean.' He paused, and looked Farrah over. 'Say, where'd you get her? She's not from around here. What agency'd you go to?'

'Thanks for your help.' Nigel said coolly, turning Farrah around to leave.

'Hey, I'll just find out from someone else. There's no use trying to keep her all to yourself. It's not realistic. You don't look like the kind of guy that'd be able to have a whore on payroll.'

Nigel felt her stiffen under his arm, and he walked a little quicker.

* * *

Outside, they crossed the street and walked, again in silence, to a diner a few buildings down. 

'That guy was a jerk, you know.' Receiving no answer, he tried again. 'You want a coffee or something?' he asked her, sitting her in a corner booth.

She shook her head and started picking at her nails again, eyes cast down.

'Tea?' he offered again.

'… sure. One milk, two sugar.' She looked up briefly and smiled weakly.

Striding up to the counter, he found a nice-looking older woman waiting for orders.

'Hello there, what can I get you?' she asked, wiping a mug on her apron.

'Tea, two sugars one milk, and a coffee please.'

'Go ahead and sit down with your girl – she looks right frazzled – I'll bring 'em out in a minute.' She offered a grin and turned towards the kitchen.

'Thanks,' he called after her, but she either didn't hear, or didn't respond. Looking back at the table, though, he saw she was right. Farrah looked extremely tense, as if someone was going to come up behind her and scream boo. She just didn't know when. 'Are you alright?' he asked as he sat down, and he saw her jump.

'Alright? Of course, I'm fine. What gives you the impression I'm not?'

'Well, your napkin was in one piece when I left, and now it's in about fifteen. It doesn't take Freud to work out there's something wrong.'

She looked down, and indeed there were fifteen neatly torn pieces of No Name brand tissue. 'Maybe I am just a little tense,' she said, smiling weakly and picking, again, at her nails.

'Why do you do that?' Nigel asked, watching her delicate hands.

'What?'

'Pick at your nails like that.'

'Oh, well, I used to be a biter, but I quit cold turkey when I was sixteen – I wanted to be pretty, you know, with long nails, not some nail-biting nerd – so one day, I said, that's enough, and I never bit them again. Now, I just kind of pick at them because… I dunno. Just because it still feels a little odd to have talons instead of stubs. It's like, if you're so used to flipping your hair out of your face, but then you get it cut, it's still a natural reaction to flip.' She stopped, then, and, noticing that he was watching her intently, she averted her eyes out the window.

* * *

Their drinks arrived, and they sipped in silence. Nigel, unfamiliar with how to handle non-chatty women (him being used to Jordan by now), was, likewise, pensive. He drummed on the Styrofoam edge of his cup, glanced out the window, and, because she wasn't looking at him, he looked at her. His father, though distant, had once told him that a woman with baggage is not worth the work. His father may have been right enrolling him in the Navy (tough love and all that), but he was certainly not right about women. He saw Farrah's baggage as a puzzle that he wanted to solve. And Nigel never left a puzzle unsolved. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Aaaaaand I'm back after a bout of throat infection, as well as an insane amout of homework (ISU's + Exams no free time!!). This is a little shorter than I wanted it to be, and I know things might seem to be moving a little quickly, but bear with me: along with everything else, I've had a bout of writers block as well! But I hope you enjoy my (terribly short...) addition to LF,FL, and I hope you either love it or hate it enough to review! You heard me! Review!! (oh, and the last epi? YEAYE!)

cheers, Jacinta.

* * *

Looking out the window, Farrah started quietly, 'I'm… sorry, y'know. I don't mean to be… insecure or anything. Anyway.' She stopped, and started again, this time looking at him. 'We should probably get going. It's getting late. We need to find her.'

'Sure.' Nigel replied, standing and waiting for her. 'Hey, what about the waitress?'

'I left a descent tip.'

'No, no, I mean, if Sarah's been around here, the waitress might know.'

'Oh! That _is_ a good idea. Alright, let's go then.' She marched up to the counter and waited.

'That is _not_ how you get noticed, luv,' Nigel said, coming up beside her and tapping on the Formica countertop. ''scuse me? Waitress?'

'Yes, hon? Can I get you a refill?' the waitress asked, sliding up towards them.

'No, thanks, um…' Nigel replied, wondering at the best way to approach this.

Farrah, however, burst right in. 'Have you seen this girl around here lately?' She held the picture in front of her, and she had that slightly frazzled look back.

The waitress looked the picture over, and looking at them, asked, 'Why are you looking for her? Are you the police?'

'Heavens, no,' Farrah replied, 'I'm an old friend of hers. I'm looking to bring her _home_.'

'Alright then. Yeah, she's been here. Comes in here every week, treats herself to a burger and fries. I always slip her more than she pays for, she's terribly skinny. Same with all the working girls, but she's the only one I see weekly.'

'…working girls? As in…?'

'Yes, dear, a hooker, but I don't like to judge. A lot of them are runaways, or betrayed by their 'boyfriends'. I just try to give them some help whenever I can.'

'So, weekly. The same time, same day, every week?'

'That's right. Every Monday morning. Least busy time of the week, I hear.'

'Thank you so much. So much! Um, if you see her before then, please don't tell her I was looking for her. I don't want to scare her away.'

''course, hun. Won't speak a word.' She offered a warm smile, and added, 'See you Monday, then?'

As she walked away, Farrah asked Nigel, 'Well! What is the chance of _that_ happening, then?'

'Slim, and let's just leave it at that.' He smiled mischievously at her and continued, 'Monday, eh? Well, there's a lot of time to fill before then.'

'Wouldn't Dr Macy want you back at work?' she asked, smiling.

'Well, he wanted me to help you. Maybe he meant that he wanted me to help you around the city.' He put his hand on her elbow and began to lead her out of the building. 'Besides, what he doesn't know, won't hurt him.' He shot her a wicked smile, and they walked out of the building, arm in arm.

* * *

'Where have you taken me?' Farrah asked, leaning against Nigel beside a queue of well-dressed people.

'Just a little place I know.' He grinned at her and, as he pulled her to the front of the queue, he told her, 'I know the quick way in.' At the front of the line was the bouncer, a medium-height Italian man, who stood with his arms crossed behind a red velvet rope.

'Back of the line, bud,' the bouncer said, not looking in their direction.

'Even for a mate from across the pond?' Nigel said, putting his arm fully around Farrah's waist.

Finally glancing in their direction, he smiled. 'Nigel! Sorry, mate, didn't see ya there. Who's the girl?'

'Let us in, Chad, and I just might tell you later.' He covertly tightened his hold on Farrah for a moment, and smiled down at her.

'Alright, alright, be like that, but just so you know, we're pretty packed tonight, and she's the reason you're getting in. Have fun, you two.' He shot Nigel a suggestive look, and moved aside to let them through.

* * *

Farrah caught her breath as they walked through the doors. 'Wow – Nigel – this is… it's marvelous!'

'Isn't it, though? It's one of my favorites.'

'Really? I had you pegged as a Goth club type.'

'Didn't your mother teach you not to judge before you learned a little?'

'Indeed she did, indeed she did.'

This place certainly had nothing to do with Goth. Though the walls were a deep shade of indigo, the baby blue lights that covered them brought the room to life. The dance floor was lit from overhead by strobe lights, and on the far side was a lounge with squashy red and yellow chairs surrounding glowing knee-high tables. The bar was glowing with indigo neon, and the kitchen was hidden behind a mass of illuminated martini glasses. Somehow, though, the room managed to stay suspiciously dark and intimate. 'C'mon, they have an amazing menu, and I bet that plane food from this afternoon wasn't exactly filling.' Nigel led her though the crowd to an empty table, and waved over a waitress. Not taking his eyes off Farrah, he ordered two specials, 'and you look like a banana smoothie type of girl.'

'Do you always order for your dates?' Farrah asked as the waitress walked away.

'Only when I know what they want,' Nigel replied, laughing.

'Well, how is it you've only known me for... five hours?... and you know that I like banana smoothies? How?'

'Elementary my dear Farrah, when you were leaning over my shoulder I could smell your lip gloss – banana.'

Laughing, Farrah replied, 'I should be either very impressed, or very scared.'

'You're laughing, meaning you're impressed.'

'Alright, smart guy. So you figured out I like bananas from my lip gloss. Tell me some more about me.'

Taken by the challenge, Nigel looked her over and began. 'Well, I know you're from a small town in Ontario, presumably close to Toronto, so you visited the city occasionally. Maybe even had some family there, so you were excited to go there for University. You went to school in the big cities, London and Toronto, but maybe the big city wasn't what you expected. Maybe you were confused because you're so many nationalities and you were trying to find your niche. Well, you didn't find what you wanted to find in Canada, so you moved to London to see if you could find it there. Then, you started succeeding in the courts, _but_ you weren't succeeding in the social scene because you were different – I can tell you're shy, that's for sure. But the way you're pursuing your missing friend, you were very close to only a couple of people, so when you left them, you left your social safe haven… how am I doing so far?' He sat back and sipped the drink the waitress had just set before him.

'What are you, psychic?' Farrah asked, stunned.

'Yea, luv, I am. I'm also a good dancer, so how about while our food's being made we go cut a rug?'

'Did you notice there's no carpet?'

'Stand up. Now – dancing. Let's go.'

'Nouns. Verbs. Make sentence,' Farrah laughed as Nigel pulled her to the floor.

* * *

A/N again: yea, like I said: short. But don't worry, once we're back at the morgue, things will heat up... I have everything planned, I just need to write it. And the more reviews I get the faster I write!! ttlyJM.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Nigel bounded into the morgue with a skip in his step.

That is, until Dr. Macy called him into his office.

'Nigel, where were you yesterday? I thought I told you to help Miss Edwards find her friend.'

'I did, Dr M. We went to where Sarah was seen last, and we asked a few questions, and we think we found her!' Nigel didn't bother to sit down, he knew he would be up and showing Dr Macy his findings soon enough.

'Already?'

'Yeah, there was this waitress at this diner who's seen her every Monday the past little while, so we're going to go back there and see if we can bring her back to the morgue.'

'Nice job, Nigel, keep up the good work – but just remember one thing.'

'Yeah, what's that?'

'No matter how attractive you think she is, she's a very powerful woman, and I don't want any complaints from her or her company.'

Stunned, Nigel replied, 'But, Dr Macy, I would never do something that could be considered – '

'Nigel – _Nigel_ – look, with Ivers going over everything here, I just want everything to be squeaky clean. Alright? You can go – keep me posted.'

'Sure, Dr M.' Nigel walked out the room, and came into the lab, only to be pounced on by Jordan Cavanaugh.

'Nigel! You're back – great. We've missed you.'

'Good to know I'm loved,' he replied, sitting in front of a computer.

'Ah, you overestimate yourself. It's your computer skills I'm after. I need you to hack into this PDA for me – it's password protected and I need to know where this guy has been. Oh, and if at all possible, would you mind –? '

'Not telling Dr Macy?'

'You're a saint, Nige, I owe you one,' Jordan quipped, clapping him on the shoulder.

'At last count, it's many, many more than one that you owe me,' he told her, plugging the Blackberry into his computer.

'One, one hundred and one, who's counting?'

'I should be…'

'Hey, Nigel, I hope I'm not intruding…' said a small voice from the door.

'Farrah! Hey!' Nigel laughed, jumping up to greet her.

'Farrah… hey, I saw you in here yesterday – loved the jacket,' Jordan said, walking towards where Farrah stood.

'Thanks. It's new.' Farrah looked quizzically at Nigel. 'Aren't you going to introduce us?'

'Of course, how silly – Farrah, this is Doctor Jordan Cavanaugh, our resident psychopath – Jordan, this is Farrah Edwards. I'm helping her with a case.'

'Pleasure to meet you, Dr Cavanaugh,' Farrah said, putting out her hand.

'Same here – and it's Jordan. Dr Cavanaugh just sounds so _mature_.'

'Which she's most certainly not,' Nigel added, ducking a blow from Jordan's direction.

'Nige – computer?'

'I see you're not one to be interrupted,' Farrah said, following the two back to the computer.

'It's, ah, all about me, I'm afraid. Not to mention that Nigel's just about the most pliable guy you'll ever meet.'

'They're all pretty biddable. You just need the attitude.'

'Oh, I hear that. But you can't just ask a guy to do something like you can Nigel, here.'

'Oh, I dunno – in my experience, all guys are the same. Trust me – if I unbuttoned the top, say, two buttons on my blouse right now, the next guy that walked in would stop in his tracks. He'd do anything I asked.'

'Oh really? You think so?'

'Shall we test this theory, then?' Farrah asked, raising her eyebrow sarcastically.

'Alright – you do that, and then we'll see what happens.'

'What should I ask him, then? I guarantee he'll stutter and stare.'

'Just ask about the break room.'

'Letting me off easy! Alright then. You're on, Jordan.' Farrah smiled and winked at Nigel before unbuttoning the top two buttons on her plaid olive green, gold, and peach red blouse to reveal a large, round necklace, resting above her ample chest.

'Oh, well, _that's_ not fair,' Jordan said, gesturing at Farrah's chest.

Farrah just smiled as the door opened and Woody Hoyt entered the lab.

'Ah, Jordan, you're here. I was just looking for you –' Woody started, but he stammered silent when he laid eyes on Farrah.

'Woody? What do you have for me?' Jordan asked, glancing at Farrah.

'I… uhm… hiya there,' was all he could get out.

'Hi… um, could you point me in the way of the break room?' Farrah asked Woody in a small, sweet voice.

'Yea… it's… um….' He pointed vaiguly down the hallway, not taking his eyes off her. As Farrah passed him, she shot him a playful smile.

Before walking out the door, however, she turned back to face Jordan and said in a buisnesslike tone, 'Like I said, Dr Cavanaugh, all men are the same. I'll see you later. Nice meeting you, Woody.'

Woody watched her walk down the hallway, and called behind her, 'You too!...' He then turned to Jordan and Nigel, and asked, 'Who is she? What does she mean, all men are the same?'

'Just a scientific exploration of human nature,' Jordan replied, chuckling slightly. 'Whatcha got for me?'

Nigel laughed as Woody glanced back out the window after Farrah, and delivered his report. Nigel then stopped as he realized he had barely said two words to her when she walked in.

* * *

When he reached the break room, Farrah was standing beside the coffee machine. 'You know, that thing is more complicated than half the machines in the lab,' Nigel said, smiling.

'Oh, hey,' Farrah replied, turning away from the large chrome monstrosity. 'I thought as much. Which is why I stick to tea. It's simpler… when you know the kitchen, that is.'

'Let me help…' Nigel walked over to her and reached into the cabinet above her head, "accidentally" pinning her between him and the countertop.

'Oh, my…' Farrah muttered with a shy giggle behind her words.

'Sorry about that,' Nigel said, backing up slightly (but not enough to free her), and picking up a clean mug.

'No problem,' she squeaked in reply, averting her eyes, and flipping her long brown tresses in front of her face. 'So, um, what did you think about that little experiment?' she asked conversationally, grinning.

'Oh, I dunno if it was fair. See, Woodrow's something of a goody goody… he's from a small town in Wisconsin, you know, so anything as…blatant as that would send his good, pure Catholic mind into a frenzy.' Nigel smiled as he turned a small kettle on to boil. 'You know, though, that "experiment"? I didn't know you had it in you.' He crossed his arms and watched with pleasure as she blushed and looked down at her causal blouse.

'Well… okay, so I like messing with people. I was just lucky it was someone as mess-able as your… um… Woody. But it's all in good fun – I promise.'

Nigel shook his head in amazement, and moved to pour the boiling water on a tea bag for her. 'You know, for a shy, small town girl, you know amazingly well how to… pardon the frankness… seduce a man,' Nigel told her, handing her the steaming mug.

Laughing, Farrah replied, 'Well, I always loved romance novels and movies, and I… um… always wanted a man to look at me like I thought the heroes in the media looked at the heroine. With complete and utter adoration… and, ok, lust.'

'Lust! My, Miss Edwards, that is _not_ the type of thing you should be thinking about,' Nigel chided, taking his weight off the surface he was leaning on.

'Oh? And what is? Embroidery? Cupcake recipes? Room décor?'

'Yes. And flower arrangements and baby names and dowries… not the ones between your shoulders, mind you. Leave the lust to the men,' Nigel muttered as he moved in slightly.

'The _men_, eh?' Farrah muttered quietly, glancing up between her eyelashes and placing the untouched mug on the countertop.

'Yeah. The men.' Here, he leaned in fully, and kissed her softly.

Suddenly, a charge seemed to flow through them, and Farrah stood up on her toes to deepen the kiss. She put her arms around his neck as he put his around her waist.

When they parted, they didn't separate. Farrah knocked her forehead against Nigel's chest, and muttered, 'Well…'

Nigel cuddled her up closer to his chest, and put his lips by her ear. 'Fa-r-r-a-h,' he muttered quietly, 'C'mon, luv. Say something other than 'well.' It's slightly discouraging – and I don't know if my ego can take it.'

He heard a small gurgle of laughter, and Farrah replied, '_Poor_ thing. I think you'll survive. The only person with a larger ego than you is Céline Dion.'

'Well, that's not fair. I feel completely emasculated, you comparing me to a woman.' Nigel tucked a piece of hair behind Farrah's ear, and tried to make her look at him.

'A _Canadian_ woman – though many Canadians don't like to accept that fact.' Farrah chuckled slightly, and said, 'You mean it?' She was still facing the floor, so the words were barely audible.

'Mean what?' Nigel asked, caressing her jaw lightly.

'Mean… this.'

'Hey,' Nigel said, pinching her chin and moving her to face him. 'Hey. Look at me.' She met his eyes, and he saw that she was close to tears. 'Oh, no, don't cry… _Farrah_…'

'It's been awhile, you know…'

Leaning down to be at eye level, Nigel muttered, 'Look, if Dr Macy finds you crying in my arms he just might fire me – and Bug just might kill me.' Farrah chuckled at his words, but averted her eyes again to try and hide the unfallen tears. 'Yes, I mean it. You know why? Because you're beautiful, smart, and excessively sweet, that's why.' A tear rolled down her cheek, and Nigel wiped it away with his thumb. 'Look at me, Farrah. Please?'

She looked up into Nigel's eyes, and she told him quietly, 'I want to trust you, Nigel, I really, _really_ do.'

Nigel pulled her close to his chest, and told her quietly, 'I wish I could make it easier… but the only way is for you to try. Tell me-' He stopped, unable to guess her reaction. 'Tell me what happened to make you not be able to trust me… or, anyone, for that matter.'

Nigel held his breath, praying to whatever higher powers that might be listening that she wouldn't walk out, until, 'Okay. I'll… I'll tell you. But can we go somewhere else?' Though tears were falling freely now, she wasn't trying to hide them from him.

Thankful for the reaction, Nigel replied gently, 'I know the perfect place.'

* * *

A/N ahh I just loved writing this chapter – you have no idea, seriously, so much fun. So hope you enjoyed – and review! Have a nice weekend, JM. 


	6. Chapter 6

'Welcome, Farrah, to one of my favorite places in Boston.'

He had driven them to Boston Public Garden, and now they were standing on a bridge, overlooking a large pond.

'Very pretty.' Farrah was leaning up against the gilded railings of the bridge, and looking down to the water.

Nigel let the silence go on for a few moments, but broke it after he saw she was being pulled into the past all on her own.

'Hello, Farrah, where are you?' he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. She fit perfectly, he noticed.

Tilting her head to lean against him, she sighed and said, 'A long, long way away…'

'Want to take me with you?'

Farrah sighed deeply, her shoulders rising and falling dramatically, and then she began.

'Me and Sarah go back since kindergarten. We were inseparable. But she was always jealous of me… always thought my life was _perfect_… always putting me down, always telling my secrets all over the place… even though she was always smarter, more talented, prettier – she was tall, thin, and blonde, you know, so I always felt short and fat next to her. Inadequate, I guess. And I was so introverted, I only ever had her and this other girl as a friend. Both of them were more social than me, would go out to parties, and socialize and whatever, so sometimes I would feel left out – but at the end of the day I felt proud that they were my friends. In grade… six? … her and her brother pretended to be a boy who had asked me to dance at this school thing, and then later on, they started calling me garbage and all this other shit though 'his' e-mail, and made me feel like crap about it… how no guy would think I was pretty coz I was so fat, or that I was gay or whatever. _Anyways_. After that, I think, our relationship just kind of went down hill… even though I should have dumped her for everything else she had done to me… she started talking shit behind my back, and using me, and belittling me… my best friend, you know, acting like… I dunno. But we stopped talking by the end of grade eight. Then one day, she shows up at my house, and says, 'what the fuck are you doing telling my dad that I do hard drugs?'... now, I hadn't spoken to her for about two years by this point, but for some reason I had thought she had come to apologize for everything. When she said that, I think my heart broke again. I never saw her after that. She stopped coming to school, and I heard through the social grapevine she had been kicked out of school. Imagine – my rival for so many years, A+ student, kicked out… even years after we had stopped talking, I used to say a prayer for her. Her brother was such an influence on her life, and I heard he was getting into drugs, and all that gangster crap, so I prayed that she would be okay…' Tears were making trails down her cheeks, and her voice began to crack. 'Then, there were the relationships… first guy I dated was older than me, and just about obsessed with me. Thought I was perfect, so I felt like I had to be perfect around him. I broke up with him because he bored me. Then, one guy was interested, he was older than me, too, and he invited me over, and he kissed me – right out of the blue, scared the crap out of me – I had never kissed anyone before. Then he made me feel like I had to kiss him back. I did, just so I could get out of there. I never talked to him again. Finally, there was the old friend. He had always had a crush on me, apparently, and I had always loved the fact that he was _British_.' She stopped, and shot a small smile in Nigel's direction. 'I always loved Brits. Anyways, we were friends, but when we started dating, he never talked. At all. It was like pulling teeth, having a conversation with him. I always told myself he was my first kiss – not the other guy. But then, he made me feel… kind of slutty, to tell the truth. I wanted him to be what I had always imagined. The morning after we, like, kissed and whatever, he was distant. I felt kind of like a whore… he was my last boyfriend. I was sixteen. I broke up with him not too long after that. Later on, his new girlfriends told me he had really really cared for me, so I thought I might have tried harder to make him talk, but it always felt so one-way, and like I was the only one trying, you know? Basically, my relationships with boys outside my immediate family made me feel imperfect, unloved, and dirty. I know, it doesn't sound so bad, but that's the thing: whenever I thought about it, and it made me feel bad, it just made me feel worse that I kept being so touchy about it…' She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. 'Especially when my dad kept calling me fat, or pointing out that I should have tons of boyfriends because of my rack – and my mom complaining about me all the time, trying to get _involved._ It's like, she was trying to live vicariously though me, and she was trying to… raise me, I guess… oh, um, she was the working spouse, you know, so when she realized I wasn't a little kid anymore, I think she thought, 'oh, crap, got to step up my A game and raise her before she leaves for university.' It was kind of insulting, because she made it sound like she didn't like what I had become…' she stopped again, and said brusquely, looking over the water, 'This is stupid, I'm just going on and on… you're probably getting bored-'

'Don't say that,' Nigel interjected quickly, 'I want to understand. How about you tell me about your move to England? Did you move there before or after school?' He rubbed her shoulder slightly, and hugged her close, trying to make her talk.

After a moment, Farrah answered, 'During… I went to U of Toronto for pre-law study, and then I moved to England for an exchange. I was… twenty-one. That year was… horrible. My parents were killed in a car accident, and I was the sole beneficiary coz I'm an only child… then my granddad died, and barely a few months later, my grandmother. They, too, left me everything. They were pretty loaded, they had really good life insurance policies, and their house was worth about a million dollars. I was – am – a trust fund kid. My best friend got married to her high school sweetheart, started her family… and I was still in school. A coupla years pass, and my other set of grandparents died: they divided the money equally amongst their children and grandchildren, but since my parents were dead – his oldest daughter was my mom – I got my mom's share. By that time, I was single, rich, and a kick ass attorney earning a thousand pound sterling an hour. But I was single. The guys at the firm were narcissistic pigs who thought themselves God's gifts to the female population… and they either wanted me for sex, or for my money. Not exactly appealing for a virgin with a romantic idea of love… sometimes I would catch myself thinking that I should just take the least obnoxious of the lot because I wasn't skinny, and I didn't deserve to fall in love… even my mom was skinny when she got married… I didn't know anyone who had been fat and in love...'

'But… you're not...' Nigel told her, his hand still resting at her side, 'You're gorgeous.'

'Thanks – but I know. I tell myself that in the mirror every single day. But it all came down to how my dad had always called me fat… and then, a few weeks ago, I got a call from Sarah's father… and now here I am.' She sighed again, and said, 'This has made me realize that I've always been comparing myself to her… and even now I can't get her out of my head…' she said, her voice getting quieter and quieter. 'Well, that's it, really…' she added lamely, shrugging and wrapping her arms tighter around her body. 'What do you think? Am I still worth it?'

Nigel turned her round, held the sides of her face, and looked deep into her eyes. 'I think you've had it rough. I think you deserve much more than you got. And I knew you were worth it the moment I saw you.'

The only sounds that could be heard while Farrah searched Nigel's eyes were the lapping of the pond on the bridge supports, and the distant laughter of children. The silence drove Nigel insane until Farrah muttered two words. 'Alright, Nigel.'

* * *

Nigel and Farrah walked back across the bridge and though the park to Nigel's bike. When they reached it, he sat down sidewise on the seat to face Farrah. Holding her small hands in his, he said, 'You asked me if you were worth it… but am I?' 

Taken aback, Farrah replied, 'What do you mean, are _you _worth it? Of course you are.'

'You answered too fast, luv. Think about it – do _I_, a coroner, deserve _you_, an ace attorney? Don't forget, too, I'm older than you.'

'How do you know _that_?'

'Logic: you were sixteen with your last boyfriend, and you've been single fourteen years. So you're thirty. I'm… well, let' just say I'm a little bit older than you.'

'Four years isn't so bad.' Nigel was silent. 'More than four?' He nodded. 'Five? Six? _No_, you can't be thirty-_seven_!'

Nodding, he said, 'Thirty-eight in a few months… so you're friends wouldn't mind I'm older than you? _You_ don't mind I'm older than you?'

'My…my mom was four years older than my dad… it's no big deal. Besides… does it bother you that I'm almost eight years younger than you?'

Smiling, Nigel said, 'I'm living every man's dream, luv… I have a smart, beautiful, sweet, compassionate, young, rich, sexy woman falling for me. I feel like a cradle-robbing gold-digger!' That got a laugh out of her, and then a sarcastic nod.

'At least you're a doctor. My grandparents would be pleased.'

'Doctor? I suppose so. Alright. I deserve you,' he said, leaning in and tucking her hair behind her ear.

Before he could kiss her, however, she started, 'Although… I'm not easily won. You're going to have to woo me, you know.'

'Of course, m'lady,' Nigel said, standing and holding her hand to help her on the bike, 'Shall we? We'll stop by your hotel so you can change.'

'Change?' she asked as she stepped onto the seat, '_Now_ where are you taking me?'

'Ah, c'mon, Farrah, don't you like surprises?'

'…yay?'

'I'll drop you off, I'll change, and then I'll pick you up at, say, five-thirty?'

'Alright,' she said warily, 'But shouldn't you be at the morgue?'

'I have enough holidays saved up to be with you until Sarah's out of rehab, luv. Don't worry.'

With that, he revved the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.

* * *

A/N Ok so I fixed Steve Valentine's age: it's thirty-eight (thanks, Sylvie) - and that's actually what I originally planned, so I changed it back. Oh, 1000 pound sterling approximately $2500 dollars… Hoped you enjoyed! I know, there was one heck of a soliloquy, but hey – you wanted to know what Farrah's background was, and now you know… though, there just might be more to come! ;) ttly JM. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N RIP Detective Lu Simmons! Ah no!... anyways, so here I'm just tying everything together with what's happening with season six – I'm not going to go through everything (you'll see), but just jumping from the beginning scene to the end… luckily, this actually matches up quite well to my original plan! Wow! Anyways, enjoy, and review. ttlyJM.

* * *

'Nigel, good, you're back.' Dr Macy was striding out of his office towards him.

'Sorry, Dr M, but I'm not – I've got somewhere that I have to be – '

'Not today you don't. There was a shooting – a young boy – we'll need all hands on deck for this one.'

'But, Dr Macy – '

'No buts, Nigel, we need _everyone_ on this case. You're not going anywhere. Meet me in the receiving room – five minutes. Got it?'

'Sure…' Nigel said dejectedly, turning to the break room to call Farrah's hotel.

* * *

'Hello?'

'Hey, Farrah, it's me. Nigel.' He was fidgeting and twirling the cord around his finger.

'Hey, Nigel.' Disappointment was already becoming apparent in her voice.

'Look, I'm really, _really_ sorry, but there was a shooting, and they need everyone here – it's a cop case, and I am so, _so _sorry –'

Farrah interrupted. 'Nigel, it's okay… I saw it on the news. Your colleagues need you. Really, it's okay. I've been alone on Saturday nights before. Trust me, I'll be fine. You be careful, though, okay? This sounds like a really bad case. I'll just hang around here. Whenever you're done, you're welcome to come over for a coffee. Alright?'

'You're awesome, you know that?' Nigel said, smiling into the phone. 'But I'll make it up to you, I promise.'

'You just do your job – and I'll see you later.'

Nigel heard her sigh over the phone, and then there was nothing but a dial tone. Slamming the receiver down, Nigel thought of everything she had told him only an hour before, and now he was letting her down.

* * *

By the time Lu was rolled into the morgue, Nigel had been stretched far too thin. His time with Kate, though an interesting experience, had been taxing. And once he was sure he wouldn't be missed, he ran to the garage and jumped on his bike.

* * *

Nigel wove his way though the though the eerily quiet early morning streets. Reaching the hotel, he stood outside for a time wondering if he should go in or not. She had said to come any time, but it was three in the morning by now. Somehow, though, he knew that she was waiting for him.

He knocked on the door, and heard shuffling within. When the door opened, he was greeted by Farrah, soft and sleepy, standing before him in a silky, olive green camisole and pajama pants. 'Good morning,' Farrah said, smiling.

'Good morning,' Nigel replied kissing her on the cheek.

'C'mon in,' she smiled, opening the door farther, and stepping back to let him through.

The hotel room was large, and dimly lit by a small gas fireplace opposite a plush cream-coloured couch. Farrah had obviously been sitting there, as there was a matching throw cover rumpled on the floor. 'Did I disturb your nap?'

'No, I was actually watching the news. I told you to come by anytime.' She strode over to the couch and shifted blankets and cushions to make room. 'Do you want a coffee or something? My company went all out, so I have a fully stocked kitchenette and mini bar – complimentary.'

'If you wouldn't mind, I wouldn't say no to something stronger than a coffee,' he told her, sitting down on the spot she had cleared. Farrah strode off into an adjoining room. When she returned, she had two wine glasses full to the brim with burgundy liquid, along with a bottle under her arm. 'Thanks, luv.'

'Hard night, I'd guess,' she said, sitting down beside him and handing him the glass. 'I saw the media version of events.'

'Yeah. One of the cops that died tonight was Woody's ex. She was shot. Jordan tried to save her, but CPR didn't work, and she died on the way to the hospital… And, of course, my night wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs.'

'Oh? And why's that?' Farrah was watching him intently.

'Well, there's this new ME, a Doctor Kate Switzer, and she's got a real attitude on her.'

'I'd think that after working with Jordan that that wouldn't be such a big deal.'

'Not that kind of attitude… it's more of a distaste of everyone at the morgue – like she's only there to work. She's got a horrible attitude, and she was terribly insulting. I mean, if I was trying to save your life, would you insult me?'

'Of course not.'

'Exactly – and that's exactly what she did! And _now_ she wants me to buy her a new car, because apparently I got hers stolen! There was some guy pointing a gun at her, and she wouldn't get out of the car! I pulled her out, and she acted as if _I_ was the one who had pointed the gun at her!'

'That is the weirdest reaction of gratitude I've ever heard of,' she said, sipping the wine and curling her legs underneath her.

Nigel looked over at her small figure on the couch, and told her, 'You're really something, you know?'

'Am I? And what brings this revelation about?'

'Well, _I_ stood _you_ up, and here I am complaining to you about my night.' Nigel placed his glass on the table and turned to face her. 'How was your night?'

'Uneventful,' Farrah smiled, cupping her glass between her fingers. 'I just… chilled here, really. Did some thinking. About me, about you, about Sarah… about everything. Do you think…' She paused and set the glass down. 'Do you think you could stay here tonight?' she asked, putting her hands in her lap. 'Not, as in, um, _stay the night_, but, like, keep me company?' She stopped again, and started, 'I-I just don't think I want to be alone-'

''Course, luv… I don't really feel like being alone tonight, either.' Nigel smiled lightly, and held his arm out to Farrah, who crawled over and put her head on his shoulder. As the gas fireplace flickered, they lapsed into silence. After only a few minutes, Nigel heard Farrah's breathing slow, and felt her small hands loosen their grip on his. Looking down, he saw she had a look of intense calm she hadn't had yet since he had met her. With his free hand, he picked up the fallen blanket, and covered her bare shoulders. She cuddled deeper onto his arm, and her hair fell in front of her face. Tucking it behind her ear, he said quietly, 'Sweet dreams, Farrah Edwards.'

* * *

A few hours later, when he woke up, Farrah was lying with her head in his lap, and his arm draped over her waist. Looking over at the clock, he wondered vaguely how he was supposed to get up without waking her. In the end, he decided to carry her to bed. Slowly are carefully, he lifted her up, and tucked her into the plush cotton sheets in another room. Before he left, he scribbled down a quick note to leave on her pillow, and made his way to the garage so he could get to the morgue on time… or, at least, on time enough that no one would be suspicious… mainly, Bug.

* * *

'Nigel!'

Groaning, Nigel stopped in his tracks as Bug called out his name in the receiving room. 'Hey, Bug, what's-'

'Weren't you wearing that _yesterday_?' he asked accusingly.

'Well, you see, Buggles, I sort of slept over at Farrah's last night, but-'

'You _what!? _Nigel! What did I tell you about Farrah Edwards?'

'That she's delicate and I couldn't have any one night stands with her! I know! Bug! I didn't sleep with her, okay? Well, okay, I did sleep with her, but I didn't have sex with her. That's all we did, Bug: sleep.'

'What do you mean, _sleep_?'

'As in, counting sheep, dreams, you know, not awake? I don't know what you think about me, or what Dr Macy thinks about me, but damn it, Bug, I _do_ have principals, okay? I'm not just some sexual rogue that sleeps with every woman I come into contact with! I do have feelings, okay, Bug? We had a nice long talk, the two of us, about her past, so I promise you I would never hurt her.'

'Nigel, it's got nothing to do with you, alright? You've heard all about her past, so you know why I'm so protective of her, right? I don't trust you with her. After what happened in London-'

'Wait, wait, wait. What happened in London?'

Bug stood silent, mere inches from Nigel, and stuttered out, 'N-nothing happened i-in London-'

'Bug! You can't just say something like that and then just take it back! Did you two sleep together or something?'

'If she hasn't told you, I certainly won't! See this is why I'm worried! You just can't let up when something bothers you! It drives you nuts when you don't know something! You just bugger on until you have all the information. That won't do when dealing with a girl like Farrah.'

A tense silence spread across the two until Nigel broke it with, 'Look, Bug: you may not like it, but as long as Farrah says okay, I'll be perusing her. I promise I'll be a respectable gentleman, but I'm not going to stop being myself just because you say so.'

Bug stepped forward until the two were barely an inch apart. 'You hurt her, so help me, I will hurt you.'

* * *

A/N ...so? 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N. So, I'm back in classes... Not much free time after this weekend, so here's my final uninhibited chapter... if you read carefully, you just might spot a couple lines that were actually in the script;)... see the bottom for more, but for now... enjoy!

* * *

That day was longer than any day Nigel had experienced. It was full of mourning, damage control, and dirty looks (the latter being from Bug). Half way through the day, he received a call from Farrah, who jokingly accused him of walking out on her, and invited him to dinner in her hotel's dining room so they could plan Monday's rendezvous. Of course, he accepted.

* * *

The rest of the day his mind was only half on his work. He had talked to Dr Macy about the case, and so had gotten Monday off. Nigel had also talked to detective Seely about the plan, (Woody being on a mental health leave) and had gotten an assurance that Matt would come quickly if they called him with an emergency.

* * *

'Done, done, and _done_,' Nigel quipped, checking off at the end of his shift. 

'Date?' Jordan asked, trailing him down the hall.

'Dinner,' he replied, grabbing his coat and helmet from his desk.

'Date. With the lovely Miss Farrah Edwards?'

'Persistent, aren't you?'

'You'd think after all our time together, Nige, you'd know that,' Jordan replied, following him to the service elevator. 'Any reason you're going James Bond on me?'

'What are you talking about?' he asked, pressing the call button and looking around warily.

'Not taking the main elevator… looking back like someone's about to deck you…?'

'You don't think I could take Bug on?' he replied, stepping into the elevator and reaching for the handle.

'You've got at least a foot height-wise on him. You could take him.'

'Thanks, Jordan. See you later.'

Before he could close the door completely, he heard her laugh out, 'Now _that's_ a fight I'd pay to see.'

* * *

Nigel arrived at Farrah's hotel by six o'clock (after changing from yesterday's clothing into something more flattering), and made his way to the bar. When he spotted her, his face broke into a huge grin. She was the woman every man in the room wanted to buy a drink: indeed, there were a few that were sitting only a few seats away looking rather rejected. And now, another one of them was sliding down towards her. 

'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' the man said, sitting down beside her.

'No,' she replied sweetly, 'did it hurt when they kicked you out of hell?'

Coming up behind them, Nigel slid in on the other side of Farrah and held out his hand. ''Scuse me, but I never sleep with strangers – my name's Nigel.'

'Farrah, let's go,' she replied, taking his hand.

As the other man looked on in amazement, Nigel shot him an apologetic smile and said, 'It's the accent, mate. Gets 'em every time.'

* * *

'Thanks, I owe you one,' Farrah said as they wove their way to their reserved table. 

'I never have found a need for pickup lines,' Nigel told her, smiling.

'Like you said, it's the accent – it's terribly effective.'

'Does that mean you're using me for my voice?' he asked, pulling out Farrah's chair for her.

'Of course not, though it is a fringe benefit.'

'How many guys actually tried talking to you back there?' Nigel asked, sitting opposite her.

'I do believe I heard every line in the book,' she replied, laughing. 'I can't believe those actually work.'

'I don't think that's the point of a pickup line, luv. They're there for the entertainment of women everywhere.'

'Entertainment? Some guy asked me if I wanted to fuck like bunnies!'

'Don't tell me you didn't laugh at that one.'

'… okay, that was a little cute. But, I mean, do they really expect to get laid with lines like that?'

'Possibly. But men are positive creatures. They don't think.'

'This is true.'

'But you've been to clubs before – you've had to have heard some good ones… and had some good comebacks?'

Laughing, she replied, 'Yes, actually. One guy told me he would die for me – I told him to prove it… really withered his libido.'

'I'm sure that's not the only thing it withered,' he said, laughing.

'Indeed,' she replied, raising her eyebrow dubiously.

* * *

'So, about tomorrow,' Nigel started, 'how do you want to play this?' 

'What do you mean, how do I want to play this?' Farrah countered, sipping her wine.

'Well, tomorrow we're going to the diner to wait for Sarah, yes?'

'Of course.'

'Well, are we going to sit at the counter and wait for her to order so we can chat her up… or go undercover…?'

'What, you be my pimp?'

'Or a John – you get the idea. But you don't want her to recognize you, right? And if we look like cops, then she wouldn't come in.'

Pensive, she replied, 'I see what you mean… hmm. Well, I suppose I could dress up like a whore… maybe she would talk to me?' Then, because Nigel didn't reply immediately, she said, 'Stop thinking about me dressed like a whore.'

'Sorry, luv, couldn't help myself.'

'Well, do, because I have nothing that a whore would wear… we'd have to go shopping… like, now, because the stores'll be closing quite soon.'

Shocked, Nigel asked, 'So… you're actually going to dress like… a whore?'

'Don't get so excited, and wipe that smile off your face. We're going shopping… how far is Macy's from here?'

'You'll be the best dressed escort in Boston.'

Smiling audaciously, she waved over the maître d.

* * *

'How's this one look?' Farrah asked, coming out of the change room. 

'Completely inappropriate for a woman of your political and economical standing – it's perfect.' Indeed, the mini skirt and V-neck spaghetti strap camisole were perfect for what they were trying to do – that is, make her look like a convincing street walker.

'Good… and now I'm getting dressed, because people are starting to stare.'

'Hey, um, so how are we going to get there? Do you want me to pick you up early tomorrow?' Nigel asked, standing awkwardly outside the women's change rooms.

'Well,' she called over the wall, 'you could always just stay the night on the couch again. Then we could leave really early.'

'Sounds good…' Nigel replied, trying to find somewhere to look other than the display racks.

'Do you think we should get shoes, too? Like, those really big boots? Or is that a little cliché?'

'Well, luv, I don't normally pick up street girls, so I don't know what they dress like.' He was getting odd looks from the other customers now.

'Yeah, but when they _die_ they come to the morgue, yes?'

'Yeah, sure.'

'And you never see what they dress like?'

'I'm more in the crime fighting end of things, not the bodies as much…'

'Ahh, okay.'

'Are you done yet? Not to be hasty, but I'm not exactly fitting in out here.'

As she walked out the change room, she told him, 'I actually was done changing a minute ago – I was just getting you back for standing me up last night.'

Nigel gave her a look of utter disbelief as he followed her out to the checkout.

* * *

'So, you want a nightcap?' Farrah asked as they entered the hotel room. 

'Sure,' Nigel replied, setting down the shopping bags and throwing his keys down onto the coffee table.

'Make yourself at home, and I'll make us something special,' Farrah called from the kitchenette.

'Alright,' he called, removing his coat, and straitening up the blankets and pillows.

After a few minutes, a sweet and spicy aroma came wafting from the kitchen, and Farrah came into the living room carrying a pair of steaming mugs.

'What is this?' Nigel asked taking the cup Farrah handed him.

'This is mulled wine,' she replied, sitting down beside him and taking a small sip from her drink. 'Mmm… I just love it. It's very Christmas-y, but not so much that it can't be had any other time of the year.' She paused, and started slowly, 'You know, Nigel… the moment you first walked into that conference room I knew I would like you. Your sense of humour, and how at ease you were with your boss – it was just so intriguing.'

'That's odd, because the moment I saw you, I thought that you looked absolutely amazing in the ensemble you were wearing.'

'Is that so?'

'Of course! You looked absolutely stunning, all sweet and innocent and ball breaking. It was terribly attractive.'

'Well, thank you, I guess… especially the ball-breaking part. It's what every girl wants to hear.'

'But it _is _a compliment! It means you were so intimidating-ly confident I was almost scared of you.'

'Almost? Well, then, I suppose I need to step it up a notch,' she countered, grinning over her mug.

'What? It's a bad thing I wasn't scared of you?' Nigel laughed, grinning back.

'Maybe…' she replied, her voice dropping down to a near whisper.

'Farrah, what's wrong?' he asked, moving in closer.

She seemed to search her mug for an answer, and when she didn't find one, she started searching his eyes. 'I still don't know if I can trust you, Nigel. I mean, we banter back and forth, and we have interesting dialogue, and we've had fun together… but… I dunno… I'm so sorry for being… touchy, but…'

'Hey, hey, hey… Farrah, it takes time to trust someone. Don't expect it to happen over night.' He was running his finger down her jaw line and tilting her face upwards so she would continue to look at him.

'The thing is, Nigel, I, um, wasn't completely honest with you before,' she muttered, trying to break eye contact.

'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, luv, don't feel you have to,' he told her, though he was positively bursting with curiosity. With those words, he could make Bug proud (or at the very least, swallow his words).

'I want to tell you, really, but I don't know if I should… if I can trust you.'

'What can I do to make you trust me?' Nigel asked, grasping her free hand in her lap.

She looked down at their hands entwined, and set down her drink. Meeting his eyes, she asked, 'Didn't you wonder how I knew Mahesh?'

* * *

A/N WELL then... what will she reveal NOW?!... okay so just so you know... I'm back in class so I'm going to be getting homework again, so not quite as quick updating.. (I also have another fic that I've been neglecting, which I should probably get on...)... Now, things to comment on, because no matter how much I appreciate the kudos (THANK YOU!!) I would love constructive criticism: SO: To consider... Characterization... story line... believeablilty (in a TV show/story sort of way..)... congruence between human emotions and the circmstances... etcetera...

Thank you all for following this, and reviewing, and all that jazz... and if I get fifteen reviews (total) by the time the next one is posted, I'll make it extra long, and you just might get to meet Sarah...

ttly!!! Jacinta.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Before I start… don't worry: this isn't going to be graphic, just a reality: ¼ women will be sexually harassed in her lifetime.

* * *

'Didn't you wonder?' she repeated, glancing back down, and up again.

This was it. If he screwed this up, he would just about hate himself. 'Of course I wondered,' he replied, keeping the intense curiosity out of his voice, 'but I didn't want to intrude where I wasn't wanted.'

'Actually, I was rather surprised when you didn't ask…' Smiling, she tilted her head and said, 'Mahesh yelled at you, didn't he?'

Wanting to keep her smiling, he replied demurely, '…maybe a little.'

Shaking her head, she told him, 'Ever since we met, he's been protective of me! He's been like a big brother to me.'

'Funny he never mentioned you,' Nigel said, more of a question than anything.

She shrugged, and said, 'What happened between us was nothing that anyone else needs to know, but would ask anyways, so we just never tell more than needs to be said. Besides, did you ever ask after any girls he met back home?'

'… nope, can't say I have.'

'There you are then. And it wasn't by any stretch a romantic relationship; just a friendship… though a friendship is oft more beneficial than a romance.'

'How so?'

'No pressure.'

'Oh?'

'Do you want to hear about how we met or not?'

'Do you want to tell me about it?'

'Yes, but you'll have to stop talking.'

'Not a word, luv.'

'Alright, then.' Farrah fidgeted so that she was directly facing Nigel, and began in a rather businesslike tone, 'It was just after my 22nd birthday. The past year had been hell, what with loosing my parents and grandparents within a matter of months. And the move between Canada and England hadn't exactly been easy, what with getting acquainted with the city, transport, money, the people…' She paused. 'The school knew all about my home problems, of course, so they gave me conditions, but they allowed me a certain amount of freedom. They told my professors all about everything, as well, so that if I ever needed to talk to anyone, and if I needed extra time for assignments, I had options open. I talked to a few of my professors, but there was this one in particular that I really admired. He the same age my father would have been if…' She trailed off, sniffed, and continued. 'One day after class, he invited me to his office to discuss a paper I had handed in that day. I agreed, because I thought there could be no harm in it. So we get there, and he offers me a drink. I say no, but he takes one for himself.' She started talking faster, eyes becoming unfocused. 'Then, we get into this really heated discussion, and out of nowhere, he presses full out against me, and kisses me. He's got me pinned against the desk, and he's practically forcing his tongue in my mouth. I try to push him away, but he just presses harder. Then, as he starts running his hand up my leg, there's a knock on the door. My professor jumps about three feet as the door opens, and I run. Past him, past the person at the door, and out the building onto the campus grounds. I sit under this huge tree and I just… stare at the field before me, not really seeing it. After awhile, I see someone set my books out beside me, and then sit down. I start crying, and the person holds their arm out, and I just sort of collapse, sobbing, into their arm. We sit like that for… I dunno how long, and then,' she laughed, 'I hear their stomach growl. I laugh a little, and they apologize. I say no problem, and wipe my eyes with a handkerchief they hand me. They ask if I'm ok, and if I'm going to press charges. I say no to the first, yes to the second. They ask if I want to go now, and if I want them to come with me. I say yes, so we get up and wave down a taxi.' She sniffed again, and continued more quietly, 'The next few weeks went by in a sort of dream-like state for me. I was only ever half there, my mind on what could have happened if Mahesh hadn't come in.

'Those weeks after, he was my strength, I think. I mean, every day, he would walk me home from class, and we'd have lunch together. He even helped me with a few assignments. We learned a lot about each other, got really close. Which was good, because the other students had terrible reactions to what had happened – some of the guys thought I was a prude, and so kept trying to jump me; some were pissed that I had gotten the easy teacher fired... and the girls were even worse! They were either jealous that I had been picked, or mad that I wouldn't give them all the steamy details… I don't think I've ever had a better friend than Mahesh.' She sighed, and said, 'When he finished school, I was at the ceremony, crying and cheering with his family. And when he moved here to the US, I was at the airport, holding on until the last call for his flight. And we've kept in touch all these years, too… obviously not _well_, as I didn't realize he would be here...'

They sat in silence for a while, looking into the gas fireplace that was flickering mechanically.

After a moment, Nigel murmured, 'Farrah… I…'

'Don't say you're sorry, Nigel, there's nothing you could've done,' Farrah replied, smiling. 'All you have to worry about now is what I'm feeling now.'

'Now, eh?'

'Yeah, now.'

* * *

AN TADA! See I'm back. Aaand after this… dun dun dunnnn…. ;)…. Review….. more dialogue and action in the coming chapters, just wanted to get this up… got a few going, so, yea…. O, and btw… REVIEW! Ciao, Jacinta. 


	10. Chapter 10

Enjoy. Review. Ciao!JM

* * *

'So…' Nigel started after a moment of silence. 'How _are _you feeling now?' 

'I'm feeling good, actually.'

'Really?'

'Oh yeah,' she told him, 'I mean… you know, worried about tomorrow.'

'We'll find her, you know,' he told her, holding her hand in her lap. 'You and me. We'll find her, and we'll bring her home.'

Looking down at his hand, she smiled and replied, 'I know, Nigel. You wouldn't let me not, would you?… I think I'll turn in… we have an early day tomorrow. You're, um, welcome to sleep with me, coz it's a king-size mattress, but just don't expect anything.' Standing up, she smiled lightly and gestured vaguely towards the bedroom. 'I just have to change; I'll be out in a minute. You have pjs?'

'Yeah.' He pulled on a pair of track pants he had stored in a knapsack (he had conveniently 'forgotten' a matching tee-shirt…) as she changed, and pondered over what had transpired. This girl was one tough nut to crack, all right, but, of course, he wouldn't give up: beside the fact that he was really genuinely interesting in finding Sarah, Nigel was really starting to like Farrah. She was so sweet and trusting… and, alright, she was stunning – no denying it.

Interrupting his thoughts, she called out from the bedroom, 'Whenever you're ready.' When he entered (topless), he found her leaning up against the headboard on the right side of the mattress, comforter up to her bare shoulders. 'You don't mind the left do you?'

'The left?'

'Of the bed?'

'Oh, no, actually I prefer the left.'

'Hmm.'

Nigel walked over and gently sat down on the edge of the mattress, swinging his long legs underneath the soft cream cover. Careful not to brush up against her, he laid his head on the pillow, and Farrah switched off the light.

He felt her lie down, and turn her back to him. After a moment, she said, 'I said not to expect anything, but that doesn't mean you can't get comfortable, Nigel.' Surprised, he turned to face her back. Before he could say anything, however, she told him, 'I'm… um, I'm actually a little chilly….'

Taking the hint, he slid over and wrapped his arm around her waist, and rested his head behind hers, careful not to pull her auburn tresses as they cascaded across the lacy pillow, or to push his body too close next to hers. However, she surprised him yet again as she shifted slightly so her back was pressing lightly against his chest. He heard her sigh and felt her chest rise under his protective grip, and smiled to himself as he inhaled a sweet aroma of Japanese cherry blossom radiating from her hair.

'Farrah,' he muttered, rubbing her skin with his thumb.

'Mmhmm?' she replied sleepily.

But as he heard her reply, he knew that there was only one thing he could say to make this moment any better, and neither of them was ready to say it. Instead, he simply murmured, 'Sweet dreams,' and drifted off, holding her petite figure close to his heart.

* * *

When Nigel awoke, he was alone. From the bathroom, though, he could hear the shower running. Checking the clock, (it was a quarter past four) he flopped over and slowly made his way out of the warm bed to change. When he heard the water switch off, he heard Farrah call out, 'Are you awake yet?' 

'Not really,' he replied, 'but I'm up.'

'I suppose I should've expected that.' Her voice was then drowned out by the shrill cry of a hairdryer. When it stopped, she called out, 'I'm coming out, are you decent?'

'I'm perfection, luv,' he replied, pulling on his leather jacket over a light sweater.

He heard her snort from the other side of the door, and she scoffed, 'That is not what I meant and you know it, Nigel Townsend, now are you _dressed_?'

'Yes, I'm _dressed_, Farrah Edwards.' He heard her click her tongue intentionally noisily, and she stepped out of the bathroom in her fully inappropriate outfit. She stopped and looked in mock disgust when she saw the look that spread across Nigel's face. In response, he simply said, 'Luv, you look, fan_tas_tic!'

'Wipe that look off your face, Nigel,' she told him, rolling her eyes. 'I may have let you sleep with me last night but if you keep on like that I certainly won't make it a habit.'

'Oh, come now, I'm sure you enjoyed it.'

'Obviously not as much as you… and next time, keep your hands to yourself. When I woke up this morning –'

'-at such an ungodly hour-'

'-your hand had strayed quite far north.' She cocked her eyebrow and chided him, 'I dunno what type of girl you're taking me for, but you have to at least buy me dinner before you get to second base.'

Checking his watch, Nigel laughed, and replied, 'How about breakfast? Or at least some coffee. We should probably get out there to wait for Sarah.'

'Let's go then. Oh, and don't forget we're taking my mini.'

* * *

'She'll be here, luv, I promise.' 

'But what if she doesn't come?'

'She'll come.'

'But what if she needs extra money or something so she works extra hours?'

'She still needs to _eat_, luv.'

'Not necessarily, you've seen those girls who're addicted to hard drugs – they're skin and bone!'

'Didn't you hear the waitress? Every Monday like clockwork. _She'll be here_. Eat something, you look famished.'

'Easy for you to say, you're a guy, you haven't an emotional bone in your body.'

'That's not-'

'I know, but still. I can't eat.' At the sound of the door chime, her eyes flitted to the front of the diner, and Nigel saw her loose all colour as recognition hit her. 'Oh. My. God…' Discreetly, Nigel turned in his seat to look as well. What he saw was a girl, thin as a toothpick and twice as tall, skin pale as anything, wish blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun. Her makeup was dully running down her cheeks, and she had bags under her eyes. 'Oh, Sarah, what've you done…' Farrah muttered as she gripped Nigel's hand under the table.

'You're fine, luv, just remember; we're going to bring her back to the morgue where she'll be safe.'

'Yeah…' she replied faintly, 'just so long as she isn't in a body bag…' She stood, and, swishing her hips convincingly, strode up to stand beside Sarah at the counter as Nigel looked on.

* * *

'Es'cuse me, could I get another coffee over here?' Farrah asked the waitress demurely. 

'Course hon, coming right up.'

Farrah sat down on the stool next to Sarah's, and looked back at Nigel, who nodded guardedly in encouragement.

Luckily, Sarah started off the conversation.

'I haven't seen you around here before. Where'd you come from?'

Detective Seely had passed on a few tidbits from a friend in Vice, so Farrah was well versed in the goings on of late in the sex trade. 'Russia,' she replied with a slight accent, not making full eye contact.

'Oh. What's it like in Russia?' Sarah asked, looking down at her own plate.

'Cold,' Farrah replied. 'But in Saint Petersburg, it is very beautiful at night.'

'Is that where you lived before you came here?'

'No… I lived in Moscow. I used to sit by the river and look across to Novodevichy Convent…' she paused to look over at Sarah and smiled a little. 'Winters may have been cold, but the snow made it shine so nicely.'

'Yeah, I know what you mean. There's lots of snow where I came from, too.'

'You are not American citizen either? Where did _you _come from?'

Sarah paused, and replied slowly, 'From Canada… I came with my brother, but… I dunno where he is anymore.'

'I am sorry. Maybe he will turn up some day, hmm?'

'Maybe.'

However reluctant the waitress was to interrupt (Farrah and Nigel had spoken to her when they arrived), she could only hold off serving the coffee Farrah had asked for for so long. 'Here it is. Sorry it took so long. Had to make a new pot,' she said, handing the steaming cup over.

'It was nice talking to you,' Farrah purred as she turned slowly back to their table.

'Oh, wait. Are you sitting alone?'

'No. I have a… friend with me. You are welcome to join us. He is nice gentleman. Pay's good later. I'm sure he would like you. He was watching you as you walked in.'

Sarah eyed her warily. 'You don't want to get paid yourself?'

Farrah gave a furtive smile. 'No matter who else he is with, he _always _comes back to _me_.'

'… alright. I guess I could use the cash.'

'Ah! Good, I will tell him – he might even give bonus this time. Come sit with us when you get your dinner - he likes his girls to eat.' She strode back to the table and placed the steaming cup in front of Nigel. She sat close to him, and leaned in so Sarah might make her own conclusions. What she was really saying was, 'Smile like you just got the sweetest piece of ass you ever saw – and don't forget – stop being so damn charming. She's coming over.'

* * *

A/N Tada! And so we finally meet Sarah. So in response to the last chapter, is was more of a transitional thing: that's why it was so short. I would like to hear your views on it, however. Thanks for reading, thanks for those of you who've reviewed, or are thinking of reviewing, coz I like to be polite. And, of course, thanks for being patient for my abysmal update rate!! Ciao, Jacinta.  
PS: 756 hits 14 reviews? What? I mean, I'm not amazing at math, but that doesn't make sence, does it? ;)Review? 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N see below. Enjoy!

* * *

'So what are we going to do when she comes over?' Nigel asked, watching Sarah slide off the stool and into the restroom.

'_We_ aren't going to do anything,' Farrah replied, 'but _you_ are going to invite her out for sex. Then, you'll drive us both to my hotel room, and then we'll call Detective Seeley. And then I can bring her back to Canada.' She stopped.

'What's wrong?' Nigel asked, petting her cheek.

'It's… it's the beginning of the end, isn't it?'

'Wha - oh.' She was right, of course. Now that they had found Sarah, it was only a matter of time before Farrah went back to Canada, and then back to England. She had no reason to stay in Boston. There might be some legal problems in getting Sarah out of the country with dealing with Peter's murder, but Farrah could get that rectified in a few days, and even then she'd be busy with legal work, and with getting Sarah prepared to go home. 'Well, we've had a good run, haven't we?' he asked her, 'and it's not like I'll never be in London.' Nigel continued, smiling unconvincingly.

'Yeah, I guess…'

'So what should I call you, by the way,' Nigel asked, not wanting to think of the looming end to their relationship.

'Sonya. Do I look like a Sonya?' Farrah asked, setting her head against his shoulder and smiling.

'No, you look like a Farrah. But you could pass as a Sonya.' He placed his arm around her and stroked her waist.

'Isn't it going to be obvious to her that we've – and I've – not had sex before?' Farrah asked, looking up at Nigel, grinning.

'Not necessarily. We've _slept_ together… and in my mind we've already had sex.' Farrah, mouth agape, smacked him playfully, and he continued, 'You're supposed to not care, anyways. It's not emotional, just business.'

'I thought you said you never picked up street girls, Nigel?'

'I don't-' he started, but just then, Sarah came out of the restroom, her makeup clean and deliberate.

'Here we go, then,' Farrah said, laying her back against Nigel.

'Don't get jealous when I start flirting with your best friend, eh?' he told her as he slung his arm again over her hips.

'Yeah, yeah. Don't be so into yourself. Besides, I could just flirt with Seely or Hoyt to get back at you.'

'You wouldn't dare.'

Looking up to meet his gaze, she smiled audaciously and told him, 'Try me.'

* * *

'Hey there,' Sarah murmured, sliding up to their table seductively.

'This is the girl, darling. She is from Canada, she says,' Farrah told Nigel, Russian accent returned. 'You are always going for the foreign girls!'

'The foreign girls are always the most fun,' Nigel laughed, motioning for Sarah to come and sit beside him. 'Now, what's your name, luv? Sonya here hasn't told me yet.'

'That is because I do not know myself,' Farrah replied, smirking haughtily at the frightened-looking girl before her. 'So?'

'Uhm, it's Sarah,' she said, sitting down demurely and sliding slowly over to Nigel.

'She is shy!' Farrah laughed, reaching over Nigel and pulling Sarah closer.

'Don't mind her,' Nigel told Sarah, flinging his arm around her, 'Is there anything I can get you before we head out, luv? I've got awhile before my plane leaves, and I refuse to take you away from your dinner.'

'Um...' Sarah started, not sure of the right answer.

Farrah saved her, though, by saying, 'Thomas, darling, I would absolutely love a chocolate milkshake.'

'And for you?' Nigel asked, waving the waitress over.

'I was actually waiting for a burger and an order of fries...'

'My treat, Sarah. Don't worry,' he added, 'I never deduct pay.'

* * *

He didn't hear him approach, but Nigel felt Sarah's body tense, and heard a quiet, deadly tone murmur, 'Sarah, are you heaving fun with your new friends?' The man's voice came out as a hiss.

'Hey! Tyler, hey. No, not – not friends. Well, friends, but… hey.' Sarah replied nervously, standing up.

'Hello, mate. Is there a problem?' Nigel asked, smiling smoothly up at the stranger.

'I don't know. Is there?' he asked, looking down his nose at Sarah.

'No! No, no problem. We were just leaving, actually,' Sarah told him, smiling nervously up at him.

'Leaving, huh?' Tyler asked, shifting his cool gaze over to Nigel. 'Where're you bringing her?'

'My hotel downtown,' Nigel told him warily. 'Who are you to ask, anyways?'

'A concerned associate. And I'm concerned that a man of your standing might try a cheat a lady such as Sarah out of her fair yield.'

'Thomas, darling, please, just pay the man so we can go back to the hotel room, hm?' Farrah said sweetly, looking down under the table to Nigel's lap and back up to wink at him. Feeling her hand run across his lap, he noticed his pocket felt fuller; heavier than before.

Nigel nodded, and told Tyler, 'Look, mate, I dunno what kind of bloke you think I am, but I never skip out on a bill. I'll even pay for the taxi to get her home. C'mon. How much an hour?'

'How much are you willing to pay?'

'Good faith of…' Nigel started, looking down at the roll of bills Farrah had put into his pocket. Trying to hide the shock at the amount of money he had, he continued evenly, 'five hundred. Another thousand when she's on her way home, plus taxi and… say, fifty an hour. Eh?' He peeled five bills of the roll and held them out for the thug's inspection, hoping that was an appropriate price.

Tyler looked down at the bills. When he pushed Sarah back towards the table, Nigel glimpsed an ornate tattoo on his wrist. Then, with only a stern look at Sarah, he turned around and left. Thanking any higher power which was listening, Nigel began to stand up, pulling Farrah along with him. He then dropped a twenty onto the table, linked his arms through both women's, and steered them out of the diner, into the brisk Boston morning.

* * *

When they arrived back at the hotel, the three of them crossed the foyer quickly, as odd, distasteful looks were being shot in their direction. When they reached the hotel room, Nigel reached into his pocket again and found Farrah's key card nestled amongst a few stray bills.

Nigel ushered the two women into the room, and Farrah said, 'Sarah, head into the washroom and run a bath. I will be back in a moment.'

Sarah nodded, and headed into the back. Once they heard the water running, Nigel said, 'Well, luv, what now?'

'Now,' she replied, 'we call Seely. Get Sarah home, I guess.' She stopped. 'I'll… I'll miss…'

'Me too,' he replied, circling her protectively in his arms.

When they heard the water stop, they sprung apart, Farrah heading into the bathroom, and Nigel heading to the phone. It had barely rung twice when Detective Matt Seely barked, 'Seely. What do you want?'

'Hello to you too,' Nigel replied, checking that the girls were still in the bathroom.

'Nigel? Hey, sorry. You got the girl?'

'Yeah, Matt, we got her. Can you send someone over to bring her in?'

'Sure, there're two officers standing by in the lobby, they'll be up in a minute. Did her friend recognize her?'

'No, she didn't,' he replied, 'so… I don't know if she wants you to arrest her, too…'

'I'll have one guy bring Sarah in; the other'll linger with you and Farrah. That good?'

'Perfect, Matt, thanks.'

'Don't mention it… unless you want to mention it to Miss Edwards –'

'Stay away from her, Seely.'

'Just thought I'd try, Townsend. Talk to you soon.'

With that, the line went dead, and all he could do now was wait.

* * *

Farrah came out to the front, and found Nigel hanging up the phone. 'Thomas, darling, what is taking you so long?' she asked, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head questioningly.

'Sorry, luv. Phone call. Where's the lovely Sarah hiding?' Nigel asked in reply, nodding at the door and motioning it would be mere minutes until the cops Seely sent up would arrive.

'I made her have a shower, and _now_, sit on the couch, darling, and you'll get what you are paying for.' Farrah sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside her. Obliging, Nigel sat down close beside Farrah. She put her lips close to his ear and murmured, 'Look. I know. This is going to be weird, but don't worry. Just imagine it's me…' At this, Nigel's eyes snapped towards Farrah's, and he saw laughter dwelling there. Grinning, Farrah called out, 'Come in, Sarah!'

Sarah, in all her leggy glory, saché'd into the room. Just before she could straddle Nigel, however, there was a knock on the door.

'Mr Townsend? This is the Boston Police. Open the door,' called a deep male voice.

'Shit,' Sarah spat, jumping back into the coffee table. 'Shit, shit, _shit_…'

'You are telling me,' Farrah contributed. 'What is going on, Thomas?'

'Um…' Nigel began, slowly pushing himself up. 'You two head into the bedroom, I think – '

But before he could finish, two police officers came in (using a key Farrah had provided earlier), their guns raised. 'Hands up, Mr Townsend. And who're your guests?'

'No one, they're no one,' he replied. He raised his arms slightly and looked over to the two girls who were still by the couch.

'What is going on here?' Farrah asked, still lounging on the sofa. 'I thought in America you are told what the charges are.'

'Something tells me you're not _from_ America, Miss,' one of the officers told her.

'Neither are you,' she replied, bored. 'The only peoples native to your country are just that – the natives. You are no more pure blooded American than I am!' Sarah watched this exchange with a blatant fear. She seemed to be trembling. 'Just look at her!' Farrah said, gesturing to Sarah, 'You wouldn't accuse _her_ of being foreign, but she an illegal is from Canada. You'll barely penalize _her_.'

'Canada?' the other asked.

'…yeah,' Sarah replied shakily.

The taller of the two said to his partner, 'You take her in. I'll deal with these two. The others should be coming up the elevator as we speak.'

'Alright, Joe.' He stepped forward and pulled out a pair of shining silver handcuffs. 'What's your name, miss?' he asked as he cuffed her and led her out the door.

'Sarah Whithall…'

'Sarah Whithall, you're under arrest for…' he began, but their voices stopped carrying when the doors of the elevator shut.

'And she's gone,' sighed Farrah in her regular voice, leaning back onto the cushions.

'Thanks, mate, I'll take it from here,' Nigel told the officer, turning to sit beside Farrah.

'I'll let Detective Seely know that everything went ok?' he asked, holstering his gun.

'Yeah. And let him know we'll be down there soon?' Farrah asked, looking up at him. 'Thanks for your help,' she added, smiling.

'No problem, Miss Edwards,' the officer said. 'Good working with you.' With that, the officer left, and Nigel and Farrah were left sitting together on the couch.

* * *

A/N Again. 

TADA!! Okay so. By a show of reviews, how many people like this story? Gooood… and by a show of reviews, who thinks this story sucks? Gooood…. Now, by a show of reviews, who's old enough to read a semi-intercourse-but-nothing-too-hard-core chapter? Yes? Okay then, just so you know, the next chapter is a LITTLE bit more mature, and you get the reason for the 'T', but it's a hard 'T', seriously. Like, I'm not kidding. I'm actually considering changing the next chapter to an 'M'. We'll see. I'm not done yet, so we'll see. Look here for any rating change, but for now, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope you review.JM.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Hey all. Thanks for being so patient, and thanks for the reviews. So, the next little portion is a hard T. It's not, like, pronographic by any means, but it is suggestive. It's actually less than what you would see on the show itself, but because it's on print it might feel a little graphic-ish!! Enjoy, Review. And if I don't post in a few weeks it's because my workload is piling up insanely again... I really should be working right now... heh...hehe... Anyway, if you don't like physical stuff just skip not this little bit, but the next. JM.

* * *

'So,' Farrah said demurely. 'Now what?'

'You should probably change and go tell her who you are. Seely knows not to let her call anyone, so she'll be there when we get there.'

Farrah sighed, watching her hands. 'Yes… and then I can spring her and bring her back to Canada… I haven't been back for _years_…' She stopped, swallowed, and said, 'Nigel… I don't want to leave… I don't want to go back there… I just… I want to stay here… with _you…_' Tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she pushed them away angrily. 'This is stupid… how is it I've only known you a few _days_, and yet…'

Nigel kissed the base of her neck comfortingly, and told her, 'It's amazing what can happen within a few days, luv.'

'Yeah. I mean, I've never told anyone else half of what I've told you…' she continued tensely, facing forward so her back was parallel with his. As she spoke, he started kissing higher, trying to calm her down. 'But I haven't been back to Canada since… since my grandparents' funeral…'

'Farrah…'

'And it's not like I never thought about going back…' she continued quickly, 'but there's been no reason… I mean, I'm living my dream! Successful, beautiful young lawyer, living in a gorgeous, professionally decorated house in Kensington Square… by all rights, I should be completely content with my life.' Nigel could feel her shoulders tense. 'But despite everything I've succeeded in I'm still completely alone...'

Before she could continue, however, Nigel turned her around onto his lap, and kissed her firmly on the lips. 'Farrah Edwards,' he murmured, keeping firm eye contact, 'promise me you'll never say that again.'

* * *

Shocked into silence, Farrah did not try to break their connection. It was as if their entire selves were merging with this one moment. After a few tense moments, she murmured gently, 'Nigel, what do you - ?'

'You're not alone, Farrah. I'm here. And I'm not going _anywhere_.' He moved in and kissed her softly, the sent of her filling him completely.

She let out a small purr, and lifted her arms slowly so they were wound around his neck. He heard her mutter a little, 'oh,' and he laid her softly down so her back was against the arm of the couch. Slowly, he increased the intensity of their kiss. As he ran his hands slowly along the skin beneath her silken camisole, he felt her back curve to reach him, and her fingers entwine in his hair. Feeling her heartbeat quicken, he began to kiss lower. He descended upon her collarbone, and heard a long, luxurious purr escape from her throat. When he started moving lower, however, Farrah gently pushed against him and told him breathily between kisses, 'I have… to get… to go… to the station… oh!…' and for a moment, he disregarded her. 'Nigel…'

With a sigh, he kissed her lips gently one final time, and then her hair. 'Alright, luv,' he said, standing and pulling her up with him, 'but… you know…'

Tottering slightly, she giggled like a young girl and asked, 'I know what?'

'That outfit just can_not _go to waste…' he told her, and he ran his fingers along the skin showing at her midriff.

'Oh really…' She smiled mischievously and backed up slowly into the wall, pulling him with her.

'It would be a terrible waste of money, wouldn't it?' he asked her, running his fingers through her tresses and down her cheek.

'Indeed it would…'

'So, what do you say, if all goes well, we make good use of it…'

'And what do you have in mind?' she asked, tilting her head up and smiling.

'Well…' he started, trailing off and pressing his body against hers, so she was trapped between him and the wall, 'we could always go out… or…' His lips met hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

When they broke apart, she croaked, 'Or stay in?'

'Read my mind, luv.'

* * *

Nigel left then, because he knew that if didn't he would never be able to leave. He would meet her at the precinct in a couple of hours, but he figured he should go back to the morgue to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

And to make sure Bug wasn't out for his blood.

* * *

'Oho! There's our Bond now!'

Hearing Jordan's voice call out from Trace, Nigel turned in and saw her standing over a forty-something Caucasian male. 'Hey, Jordan.'

'How was _dinner_?' she asked, checking under the body's fingernails.

'Dinner was good, thanks.' Pulling on a pair of gloves, he took the phial she was holding out for him.

'Oh, c'mon _on_, man, I need _details_. I have no social life, remember?'

'Dinner was good, thanks,' he repeated, grinning mischievously back at her and pressing a few keys on the whirring computer to check for contents.

'Nige!' she exclaimed, pulling off her gloves and coming to rest her head on his shoulder, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.'

'Won't work, Jordan, Farrah's a lovely girl; I don't want you soiling her good name with gossip.'

'It's not gossip if it's true.'

'We found her friend,' he told her, steering the conversation away from his love life. 'Farrah's going to meet her down at the precinct. Dunno if Sarah'll recognize her, but –' he said, shrugging.

'Well that's good, then,' she said, 'but doesn't that mean she's leaving soon?'

Trying to conceal his disappointment, he replied, 'Yeah, it does.'

'Ah, is that a hint of disappointment I hear?' Jordan grinned, and sat down beside him on a stool.

'Of course. You'd be sad if I went back to England wouldn't you?' He was greeted with a silence, and he told her, 'Good to know.' He stood and moved to grab another phial.

'Oh, of course I would miss you,' she said, wheeling behind him on her stool, 'but I wouldn't miss the sex.'

'A_hem_.' They both jumped, and turned to see Dr Kate Switzer standing with Bug at the door. 'I hope I'm not interrupting anything here,' Dr Switzer said, her eyebrows raised.

'Nope, not a thing,' Jordan said, hopping up casually and going back to her body.

Nigel moved his gaze to Bug, and saw that his mouth was slightly open in shock. 'No! Bug, it's not what you think…'

'You. Come here,' Bug said brusquely, motioning him towards the computer lab. Nigel moved towards him slowly, shooting a reproachful look over to Jordan, who gave him a thumbs up before Bug closed the door. 'You… you're such an ass, you know that?!'

'No, Bug, look, that's just Jordan – you heard that out of context –'

'I ask you one thing – _one thing_ – to not sleep with her – and what do you do? You sleep with her!'

'No! Bug, listen! _I have not slept with Farrah Edwards!_' What he didn't add was that he really, really wanted to, and hoped that he just might get to… and soon… 'Look, do you know what we did last night?'

'Do I want to know?'

'We _talked_, Bug! She told me about London!'

'If you forced her, so help me – '

'No, I didn't, aren't you listening? She told me out of her own free will. She wanted me to know. And do you really think I would pressure her after I found out about that?'

'You? Well, I –'

'Bug!'

'What?'

'You're supposed to be my best mate, and here you are belittling me!' Nigel turned and paced around the room for a moment, and finally turned to face Bug. 'This morning, we found Sarah, did you know?' Nigel received no answer, and so he continued. 'Yeah, we found her at this diner in the red light district. You should have seen Farrah's face when she saw her friend. Actually, no, I hope she never looks like that again, because I could see the pain in her features, Bug, and I don't ever want to see that again. Now, I'm meeting her at the precinct in an hour or so. She's going to meet Sarah, tell her who she is. I promised her I would be behind the glass when she does.' Nigel stopped, his breathing slightly heavy. 'Do you think you can accept the fact that I'm falling in love with this woman, and come down and support her with me, or do you want to make her choose between the two of us?'

Bug stood motionless for a moment. 'You're… you're falling in love? Did I hear that right? The mighty Nigel Townsend is falling in _love_?'

Nigel opened his mouth to correct Bug, but stopped, closed his mouth, and nodded slowly. 'Yeah, Buggles, I am. And like I said, I'd rather her not have to choose between the two of us – because no matter how good the – _future ­_– sex is, I'm worried she's going to choose you over me. Coz you just can't go against family.'

'Family?'

'She said you were like her big brother. You didn't know?'

'No, no, I knew,' Bug replied, sitting, 'but she's never talked to anyone else about what happened. About us.' He looked up and sighed in resignation. 'Alright, Nigel. Fine.'

'Really?' Nigel asked in mock amazement, 'I have your blessing to pursue her?' Bug nodded ruefully, and rolled his eyes. 'Glory day!'

'I might just have to have a talk with that girl, though. I mean… you're old!'

'You're no spring chicken yourself, mate,' Nigel replied, slinging his arm around Bug's shoulder.

'Yeah, but I'm not falling for a thirty year old.'

'A thirty-three year old. Yeah, big difference, Buggles. I should warn Lily how hypocritical you are!' Nigel laughed, and as Bug squirmed out from under his arm to walk out of the room, Nigel called after him, 'I'm leaving in an hour for the station!' and was received with a vague wave of Bug's hand. Taking that for an agreement, Nigel followed, figuring he should probably get some work done so he was on Dr Macy's good books before he heard Nigel was feverously perusing Farrah.

* * *

A/N... : D soooo? Well, _I _like it, at any rate... REVIEW! 


	13. Chapter 13

A/N Thanks to all who've reviewed, and enjoy my little bout of creative energy. ttlyJM.

* * *

'Ready?' 

'No. But I'll do it.'

Farrah was back in her professionally tailored, conservative suit, standing behind the observation glass in the Boston Police Department. She was unrecognizable from the whore of a few hours before.

'Good luck, luv,' Nigel told her, kissing the top of her head.

'Good luck, Farrah.' Bug had come with Nigel (in Bug's car, as he steadfastly refused to ride Nigel's bike), and he pulled her into deep hug before she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and walked out from observation, and into interrogation.

* * *

'Miss Whithall, your attorney is here,' an officer said, holding the door open for Farrah. 

'Hello, Sarah,' Farrah said quietly, setting her briefcase onto the table. 'I'm your attorney. Do you recognize me from anywhere?'

As Farrah sat down next to her, Sarah raised her head off the table and looked her over. 'Yeah… you look… familiar.'

They locked eyes, and Farrah said quietly, 'Do you remember when you still lived with your parents? When you were young? ... When we were best friends?'

A look of intense recognition crossed Sarah's features. Slowly, she asked, '… Farrah Edwards?'

'Hey, Sarah.'

'What… what are you doing here?'

'I've come to take you home, Sarah.'

'No!' Sarah exclaimed. 'I can't go home! I can't leave without Peter.'

Farrah found Sarah's hand on the table, and looked despairingly into her eyes. 'I'm sorry, Sarah. Peter's… Peter was found. He's dead, Sarah.'

'W-what? No, no, he can't be dead. I've been… I've been working to keep him okay.' She stood, and looked out the window into the fair Boston street. 'Tyler said that he would keep Peter alive if I worked for him. Peter's… he took a lot of coke, too much. But I promised him I'd work it off for him.'

'I'm so sorry, Sarah,' Farrah cooed, standing and moving closer. 'But… he's been dead for awhile now.'

'No! Stop saying that! _He's not dead!_'' Sarah turned, ran towards Farrah, and grabbed her by the shoulders. Shaking her, tears started falling down her sunken cheeks, she screeched, 'He's not! He can't be!' Sarah started sobbing, and let her body slump into Farrah's arms. Faintly, Nigel could hear her chanting, 'Peter, not Peter, _not_ Peter…'

Farrah staggered slightly under her friend's weight, but kept herself upright until she could slowly lower her to the ground. 'I'm sorry, Sarah.' Petting her hair, Farrah murmured, 'I'm so, _so_ sorry…' Seeing the tears that were forming in her eyes, Nigel wasn't sure if Farrah was apologizing for Peter, or for something else.

* * *

After Sarah had quieted down, Farrah looked up at the double mirror. She mouthed, 'Seely,' and went back to rocking her friend. 

'What does she want him for?' Bug asked, looking over to Nigel.

'I dunno. But we should get him since she needs him,' he replied, striding over to the door. 'Hey, Matt,' Nigel called to the detective standing outside the door, 'Farrah's asking for you.'

Turning, he replied, 'Thanks, Nigel. She done?'

Nigel shrugged in response, and moved back into observation as Matt entered the interrogation room.

'Miss Edwards?'

'Detective, could I speak to you alone? And could I get a doctor in here? I don't think she's well.' Farrah motioned to the girl in her arms, and Matt nodded, motioning for another officer to come and relieve her. 'Thanks.'

They moved out into the hallway. Nigel and Bug went to join them, but stood to the side, unsure of what kind of business Farrah was going to be discussing.

'What do you think, Miss Edwards?' Matt asked, his arms crossed. 'I have my orders already. I need to question her about her brother, and about the men she's involved with, but other than that she's free to go home.'

'Well,' Farrah started, 'I'd rather not have her in police custody. Where she belongs is in a hospital. She's malnourished, maltreated, and I'm concerned that she may have picked up some sort of STD while she was…' She trailed off, and started again. 'If I can arrange to have a secure hospital room, with security set up, will that please the BPD? I want her well again, and I don't think the best place for her right now is a prison cell.'

'I'm sure that would be fine,' Matt told her. 'We'll keep her here until you can get her a room. We'll get a doctor to come look her over, too, while we wait.'

'Thank you, Detective. You have no idea how much this is appreciated.'

'You're completely welcome. The Boston Police are here for you, Miss Edwards, and so am I.' Matt shot her a winning smile, and then turned to put through her requests.

* * *

Farrah then seemed to deflate before their eyes. Her mascara was smudged, and her hair was slightly messy from her encounter. Slowly, her body seemed to become unstable, and she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She sighed, and started to slide down the wall. Realizing she was about to fall, Nigel jumped forward, scooped her small figure into his arms, and carried her over to a bench. Laying her gently down, he called, 'Farrah? Farrah, luv, are you okay?' Her breathing had slowed, and she wasn't responding to his voice. 'Farrah?' he said, louder this time, and slightly panicked. 

Bug, who had been leaning over Nigel's shoulder, pushed him out of his way to check her pulse. After a moment, he said, 'Her pulse is a little quick, but she's fine. She's just… not awake.'

'Not awake? Very specific, Bug, thank you. Farrah?' He pushed her hair back and felt her neck and forehead. 'She's quite warm.'

'She'll be fine,' was Bug's prognosis. 'Just elevate her feet a bit, and I'll go grab her some water. Give her a minute, she'll wake up.'

Nigel moved her body so her legs were slung over the armrest, and he kneeled at her head, holding her hand. 'Is everything okay, sir?' an officer asked when they saw Farrah.

'Yeah, she's okay,' Nigel replied, not taking his eyes off her face. '_Farrah_?'

Gently, he felt her hand quiver in his. Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a moment to focus on his face. 'N… Nigel…'

'I'm right here, luv. Bug's gone to get you a glass of water. How're you feeling?' He moved to take her pulse again, and kept a bit of pressure on her shoulder to make sure she didn't sit up quite yet.

'What… what happened? I was… talking to Detective Seely… and then… I just… couldn't stand…' Her voice was soft, and she looked extremely tired.

Softly, Nigel told her, 'You fainted, luv.'

'F… fainted?'

'Yeah. How're you feeling?'

'Tired… and, everything's spinning.' She closed her eyes again and turned her head to face the ceiling. She groaned, and weakly lifted her hand up to cover her eyes. 'Why'd I faint?' she murmured.

'Dunno,' Nigel replied, looking around for Bug. Seeing him coming, Nigel gently moved her legs off the armrest and said, 'I need you to sit up a bit, luv.'

'I can't. I feel really heavy.' She moved her arm and turned to look at him vaguely.

'I'll hold you up, okay?' Nigel told her, standing. He moved her body gently, and sat beside her so he could hold her upright.

'Hey,' Bug said softly, stepping in front of the two. 'How're you feeling?' In his hand he held a water bottle. He unscrewed the top and held it out for her.

'Queasy,' she replied, holding out her shaking hand to take it.

'Let me,' Bug told her as he sat down beside her and lifted the bottle to her lips.

She took a sip, and told him, 'Thanks,' when he took it away again.

'How're you feeling?' Bug asked, holding the bottle out for her again.

She took another mouthful, and replied, 'Better.' She sighed, and laid her head back.

'Do you want to go see a doctor?' Nigel asked, feeling her forehead again.

'No, no, don't be silly. I'm sure since neither of you are insisting I see a doctor, then I don't particularly need one.' She took the bottle from Bug, and drank the rest down slowly. Grimacing, she said, 'I always hated the taste of water.' Both Nigel and Bug gave her a questioning look, and she laughed, 'What? It tastes like… like nothing. But, something.'

'That's the second oddest quirk I've ever heard of,' Nigel told her, 'the first being this girl who talks like she's writing a novel.'

'So you think I'm _odd_?'

'They're also the sweetest, most endearing character quirks I've ever heard of,' he continued, smiling and squeezing her shoulder.

'Mm_hmm_. I think I'm feeling better now,' she said, trying to stand.

Bug jumped up quickly and held her arm to steady her. 'Careful. You don't want to faint again.'

'I'm fine, Mahesh, really. I need to make those arrangements, though. Just a few phone calls. I'll be fine, I promise.' And with that, she strode off and into observation where she could have some privacy.

'What was that?' Nigel asked, standing and watching Farrah go. 'Nerves?'

'Maybe,' Bug said. 'Or, dehydration, hunger. Has she been eating?'

Nigel thought about it, and replied, 'She ate… or, picked at, I guess… a salad at dinner last night. A couple sips of mulled wine… and… a few sips of a milkshake this morning. I don't know if she ate after I left, though.'

'Huh. She's never been one to skip out on a meal before. But I guess it makes sense, if she was nervous she might not be able to eat.'

'Talking about me?' Farrah's voice chirped as she walked over to them. 'I'm _fine_. I just… haven't been eating… or sleeping… a lot lately. But I think I'll be able to now that I know Sarah's safe. Everything's arranged. She'll be shipped off in a half hour.' She stopped, and linked her arms around Nigel's. He could feel her unsuccessfully trying to support her own weight, and could feel her trembling where she stood.

'How about we get you home?' he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders to hold her up.

'Okay,' she said, looking up at him. 'Maybe I could just lie down… my car's here, but I don't think I could drive in this condition… and I certainly could not ride a motorcycle.'

'Good. Because I wouldn't put you on one. I'll drive your mini, how's that?'

'Okay,' she said again, closing her eyes. 'Mahesh, thank you so much for coming.' She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him.

'Anything for you, Farrah. Now get some rest. And if _he _–' he glanced pointedly at Nigel '-annoys you in any way shape or form, don't hesitate to call me.'

'I won't,' she laughed weakly.

'Now let's get you into bed,' Nigel told her, steering her towards the door. 'Bug,' he called over his shoulder, 'could you tell Seely that the hospital's coming to pick Sarah up?'

'Of course,' he replied, and he turned to leave. But before he did, he took one last glance at the couple walking slowly down the hallway.

He saw the way Nigel held her, as if she were a china doll. He saw the way Farrah held on to him, as if he were her anchor in this crazy world. And finally, he saw the way they looked at each other, as if there were no one else in the room but them.

And he wondered if he could ever find the same thing.

* * *

A/N Again. So, I wasn't quite sure how to end this chapter. But there it is. Hope you enjoyed, and reviews are greatly appreciated. Ciao. JM. 


	14. Chapter 14

A/N I am so so so so so so SO sorry. This has actually been written for awhile but then I couldn't upload and uhm... yeah... so, Enjoy. Review. JM.

* * *

'Can I get you anything, luv?' Nigel asked, setting Farrah gently down. He had carried her up to her room (against her protests), and set her gently down on the plush mattress.

'You can let me do things for myself,' Farrah replied, laughing dimly.

'Not a chance,' he replied. 'Can I get you anything?' He covered her with a blanket, and tucked her in.

She looked him over, rolled her eyes, and said, 'Can you stop obsessing?'

'Not a chance.' He sat down on the bedside table, and brushed her hair away from her eyes. 'Listen. You want to be in tip top condition when you go see Sarah again, don't you?'

'… I suppose so…'

'Well then, you'll have to get better. And quick. And the best way to do that is to eat something, and then go to sleep. So: what would you like?'

She sighed, and said, 'Chicken soup. And crackers?'

'Alright.' He grinned enormously at her, and said, 'If it's chicken soup you want, it's chicken soup you will have. I'll be back in an hour. There's a lovely restaurant twenty minutes from here that makes the best chicken soup you'll've ever tasted.'

'Is that a promise?' Farrah snuggled down deeper under the blanket

'Yeah. You stay. Sleep. I'll be back soon.' He kissed her forehead, and left her, her eyes drifting closed as she watched him go.

* * *

When he came up to her door an hour later, carrying a medium sized tupperware of steamy soup, Nigel could hear the television tuned to the local news. Rolling his eyes, he tried the handle. It opened.

The moment he was over the threshold, he knew something was wrong.

The comforter was trailing on the floor of the living room. Pillows were sliding off the couch, and a bagel was left half-eaten on a plate.

'Farrah? Farrah! Are you here?' he called, striding farther into the room. 'Oh, god, no,' he gasped, seeing a small amount of blood on the edge of the coffee table. He pulled out his cell phone and dialled the morgue. After three rings, Jordan answered the phone.

'Cavanaugh.' She sounded exhausted.

'Jordan – it's Nigel.'

'Nigel – what's up? I was asleep.' Nigel heard someone snoring lightly in the background. 'This better be good.'

'I need to call in those hundred and one favours, Jordan. Farrah's missing.'

'What do you mean, missing?'

'I _mean_ gone! Not at her hotel. And there's blood on the coffee table, and the room's a mess.' Nigel started heading to the back room, where the bed was. The suit she had been wearing when he tucked her in was strewn on the floor, and her suitcase was sitting open on the bed.

Nigel heard muttering in the background, and Woody's voice rang out, clearly irked at being woken. 'Look, Nigel, we're at the morgue – we'll be there soon.'

'No, look, Woody's been though enough this week, Jordan, it's okay,' Nigel said, and heard Jordan relating his message to Woody, 'but I need help, and a kit, and –'

'Nigel, _Nigel_, we're coming. Which hotel?'

After hanging up, Nigel went though Farrah's hotel room and looked to see what she might be wearing, or if she might have anything on her. As he went though her luggage, he couldn't find a pair of pyjamas – she must have changed after he left. Going though her purse, he found makeup, a PDA, and earphones, but no cell phone. Hopefully she had that with her. He could track it.

'Nigel?' He heard Jordan's voice call from the main room, and he ran to meet her. 'Nige! There you are!'

'Jordan, thank goodness. Woody, hi.'

'What happened, Nige? Did you find anything?' Woody asked, walking father into the room, and spotting the disarray.

'Well I looked though her clothing, there're no pyjamas. She must have changed and moved into the living room after I left. Hopefully she kept her phone by her or something: it's not here. If she managed to grab it, I can trace it.'

'This place is pretty swank,' Woody commented, looking around. 'There are probably cameras all over.'

'I was going to check the security cameras when you got here, but I wanted to make sure they would give them to me – or, rather, a cop?'

'I'll go talk to the security guard on duty. I'll be back in a minute.' Woody left Nigel and Jordan alone.

'Quite a week, huh?' Jordan asked, walking over to the coffee table and setting down her bag.

'I can't believe it. Who would do this?' Nigel strode over and pulled a pair of gloves out of the case.

'Who knew she was here?'

'Sarah's father sent her down… her company knew, as well… of course, she had to pull a few political strings to be a part of the investigation. And Sarah obviously knows she's here, but she's under surveillance at the hospital.' After a moment of silent scraping, he said, 'Listen, Jordan, I'm sorry I had to pull you and Woody away, but-'

'Don't mention it, Nige. Just think of it as my showing of gratitude for years of putting your butt on the line for me. What about downtown? Who saw you?'

'This one bartender was being a real jerk to her – asking where I got her from, like I had bought her. And the waitress who told us Sarah would be back on Monday. And a guy who might've been Sarah's pimp…' He swallowed deeply, and cried, 'We _have_ to find her, Jordan.'

'We will, Nige. Don't worry.'

'Guys, we struck gold with the video tapes,' Woody said, bounding into the room. 'They're all in hi def, recorded on DVD. All hallways, all doors, including service entrances, and all elevators and staircases.'

'Man, they take security seriously, don't they?' Jordan remarked as she picked a short red hair from the couch. 'Farrah's a brunette last time I checked, right Nigel?'

Thinking of the feel of her soft hair between his fingers, he replied, 'Yeah. And it's quite a bit longer. I'll bring it back to the morgue along with those tapes. See if I can match it to anyone.' He paused, and said quickly, 'Thanks, you guys.'

As he handed Nigel the disks, Woody told him, 'Go save her, Nige.'

* * *

'What are _you_ doing back here?' Kate barked at him as he walked into the lab.

'Hello to you too,' he replied shortly, sitting in front of the computer and loading the security footage.

'Well you're in a good mood.'

'Not that I didn't have a nice time with you the other night, but I've got a bit of an emergency on my hands, and I'd appreciate it if you either help, or get out. Alright?' he snapped, looking up her cell phone provider.

'Wow, happy go lucky has a temper.'

'I'm not kidding, Dr Switzer, please, just go away.'

'I believe you gave me another option,' she told him, 'what can I do to help?'

Nigel froze over the keyboard, and turned round to face her. 'What?'

'How – can – I – help?'

'Since when are you helpful?'

'Since you look like me on sugar. What can I do to help?'

Looking her over, Nigel said slowly, 'Well, there's a hair that's processing – it needs to be matched to someone… and a blood sample that I haven't gotten to yet…'

'Consider them done.'

'Why?'

'Because I know why you're doing it. And I'm not about to let a girl die because you got my car stolen.'

* * *

'Why does this happen to me?' Nigel asked himself as he hacked into the Telus service. He was trying to find her cell phone on their network. If he could find the signal, he could find out if she had her cell phone on her.

She had to be out there somewhere.

She just _had _to.

* * *

dumdumdummmmm...

Ciao. Review. JS.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N. Hey there. 'Tugra' is pronounced 'tu-rah'. Enjoy.Jm.

* * *

A few hours later, Nigel could be found searching each face he came across in the hotel security videos, trying to find some clue as to where Farrah could be, when his phone rang. In his anxiety, he almost dropped it as he ripped it out of his pocket. 

'Nigel, it's Matt. Is Farrah there?'

He sucked in a breath of fresh air, and tried to calm his pounding heart. 'No. She's – she's not here. Why?' He wasn't quite sure why he didn't tell Matt - Woody would certainly tell him sooner or later – but perhaps it was because saying it aloud would make it even more real.

'We've got a bit of an emergency down at the hospital. Sarah's disappeared.'

'_What_?'

'Yeah. We don't know how it happened, but the hospital personnel must've let her out for a walk or something, and someone grabbed her.'

Eyes still on the security tape, Nigel suddenly say up taller and asked, 'Tall guy? Red hair?'

'Yeah, that's right. I'm sending over the security footage now. How did you know?'

'Because he… he kidnapped Farrah barely two hours ago.'

'Wait – _what_? I'll be right there.'

* * *

'Whatcha got, Nige?' Jordan asked, bounding into the room laden with samples. 

'We got him. Look.' He pulled up a picture of a tallish man with cold blue eyes and bright red hair standing warily in the hotel service elevator. And beside him, practically passed out, was Farrah.

'Oh man,' Jordan breathed. 'He doesn't look too nice, does he?'

'He's Sarah's pimp, I think. I'm searching the database for him.'

'So? What's going on?' a voice barked from the other side of the room. 'Have you gotten the security footage from the hospital yet?'

'Hey, Seely. No, but Nige here's found him.'

'Where?'

'Here.' Nigel rewound the footage and pointed them out. 'Wait… what's that?' He stopped the tape, and zoomed in to focus on the man's wrist. 'Well I'll be…'

'What is it?' Jordan asked, leaning over his shoulder.

'It's a tattoo of a tugra,' he replied, cropping the picture and putting it into a search engine.

He received blank stares from the other two.

He sighed, and said, 'The signature of a Turkish sultan – a very ornate, detailed picture?'

'How do you know these things?' Seely asked looking closer as well.

'We don't ask, Seely. It's just one of those things that we have to contend not knowing,' Jordan told him, clapping him on the shoulder.

'Ah,' Seely muttered, still not quite comprehending.

'See?' Nigel pulled up the results of the search and pointed to the caption. '"_Tugra - imperial monogram of __Sulayman__ the Magnificent of Turkey."'_

'Can you check if this's been found on anyone booked in the last little while?' Seely asked, rubbing the place where Jordan had smacked him.

'Of course I can.'

'Good man. I'll go meet up with Woody, see what he's got. I'm sure we'll find them. Get some rest, Nigel, you look like crap. Let the BPD handle it.'

Nigel sat back in the chair and groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

'He's right, Nigel. You'll do her no good half dead from lack of sleep.'

'But –'

'I can handle it. And if all else fails, I'll grab Bug-'

He groaned again. 'Bug's gonna kill me.'

'You haven't told him yet?!'

'...he'll kill me.'

'Yeah, but you should still _tell_ him.'

'How about if I leave, _you_ tell him?'

Jordan rolled her eyes, and said, 'Fine. But go home. To bed.'

'But-'

'I'm calling Bug now…'

'Okay! Okay, I'm gone.'

* * *

With that, he bounded out of the room and into the service elevator. It was only when the door shut and he felt it lurch into motion that he leaned against the back wall and allowed himself to loose control and let a few tears escape. 

She was right. Farrah. Her words echoed in his mind, and only now he realized fully the truth behind her words. _'How is it that it's only been a few days, and yet..?'_ And yet his heart was breaking to think of her, alone and scared, away from his comforting embrace? Was it true, what he said to Bug? Was he in love?

_Yes_, was the answer, and it resonated in his mind, over and over. This just made him realize how true that statement was. What would he give, at this moment, to know that she was safe?

Pulling him out of his revere, he jumped when his cell rang in his pocket. Again, he almost dropped it out of shock.

'Hello?' he muttered, not registering the caller ID.

'Nigel?' The voice was female, and barely there. But, despite that, he knew who it was instantly.

'_Farrah_?' He stood up straighter, and continued, 'Farrah, are you okay? Where are you?'

'It's… it's Taylor, Sarah's pimp, he followed us to my hotel. He only just left. I'm downtown, I think, close to the diner. I-' She stopped, and he heard her gasp.

Nigel held his breath, and frantically pressed the _up_ button on the elevator panel. He could track her, _he could track her_.

Then, he heard heavy footsteps, and a cold voice in the background. '_So. Farrah is it_?' Nigel heard her mumble something in reply, and then heard a harsh, resonating slap. '_You wanted to get rid of my best girl. You took her, and see, now, that was a waste of good money for me. _And _you told her her brother was dead. So. Because of that loss of revenue, I think you and I will have to reach an agreement. How about a good run with me, and we'll consider you square...'_

'No…' Nigel muttered, stopping, eyes wide in repulsion.

She muttered something else in reply and there was a sharp, humourless laugh. '_You're a _virgin? _Well then… that's something that some guys will pay a fortune for, did you know that? You wait right here, and I'll be back…_'

Finally, Nigel reached the morgue level, but before he could take two steps, he heard a voice roar in anger, 'NIGEL! WHAT THE _HELL_ HAPPENED?!'

'No! Bug! I found her!' Nigel cried drastically to counter his friend, but froze when he realized that he had yelled into the receiver. And there was only silence on the other end.

'_What was that?'_

'_N…nothing…!'_

'_Oh, really…' _There was a rustling, and then Nigel heard the phone picked up. 'Hello?' Nigel couldn't answer. He heard Farrah squeal in pain in the background. The male voice laughed cruelly, and hissed, 'I know you're there. And just because I _know_ you're listening…' There rang out the sound of another harsh slap, and then a faint scream as the dull sound of a punch reached Nigel's ear.

There was silence.

Then the phone line went dead.

* * *

A/N Aaaand... GO!... (review?)Jm. 


	16. Chapter 16

A/N BWAHAHAHAH!!!!!... enjoy and review. x0xJM.

* * *

'Nigel! You didn't answer my question! _What the hell happened?' _

'I've had it up to _here_ with you attitude, _Bug_!' Nigel cried in fury and exasperation as he strode away and towards the computer room. 'Do you realize what you've done?!'

'What I've done? _What I've done?_ What I've _done_ is allow this relationship to go on t-'

'No, Bug, no! What you've done just now! Know who I was on the phone with? _Farrah_! And our arguing may have caused her serious physical harm! Know why? _Because the guy that took her was in the room, and he heard us yelling and he hit her_, Bug. _Tyler hit her_. I_ heard_ him. He hit her because he heard us talking – screaming – whatever. And then he hung up the phone. I was _so _close to being able to track her to the inch, Bug, and now I don't know. I just don't know.'

Bug stood in a shell shocked silence for a moment, until he croaked out, 'But… but you can find her, can't you? You can track her phone signals? You've done it before, haven't you?'

Nigel nodded grimly, and replied, 'Yeah; but we need to be positively sure, Bug – we can't have any margin of error. If Tyler hears the police coming he's sure to do something to her. So if we can find her while he's looking for a customer, then it'd be a miracle.'

'Customer? I'm afraid to ask what you…' A look of mixed rage, fear, and repulsion crossed Bug's features as he understood, and he asked weakly, 'What can I do?'

'Call Woody and Matt, tell them we've got a general location. The same area we found Sarah in. Tell them to go there and I'll get them more specific directions when I can.' As he spoke, he hacked back in to the Telus service.

Bug nodded demurely, and strode out the room, seeming to find it easier to concentrate when he was not in Nigel's presence.

* * *

'Come on, come _on_…' Nigel muttered as he pounded mercilessly on the keyboard, searching for her signal. It then began to zoom in on her exact location. '_Come on_.' 

Finally, after almost a quarter of an hour which seemed to stretch over many days, a small white dot appeared, and started blinking over an old, rundown apartment not to far from that diner where he and Farrah had had that first cup of coffee.

He pulled out his phone and dialled Woody's number.

It only rang once.

'Hey, Nige, what's up?'

'I found her, Woody! Where are you? I can send you directions.'

'We're almost there. Send them to the car. ID 040690. When we find her we'll call you. Chances are we'll be bringing her to the hospital, if what Bug said is right – and if you're right about his intentions.' With that, Woody stopped talking to Nigel, to relay the message to Detective Seely, who was, presumably, driving.

Nigel blanched white, and had to force himself back into consciousness to forward the location and directions to the police cruiser. When that was done, he put the phone next to his ear again, and croaked, 'How long?'

'We'll get there as soon as we can, Nigel. Should take us… _about_ six minutes at worst. Stand by. We'll get her. Don't worry. Was Sarah there, do you know?'

'No. No, I didn't hear her voice. I think she was in another room, though. It sounded like he had just finished talking to her. I don't know.'

'Thanks, Nige. I'll call when we find anything.' And with that, Woody hung up.

Nigel flipped his phone shut, sat back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes.

'They're going to find her,' he told himself firmly. 'They're going to find her and she's going to be alright.'

* * *

The next twenty minutes were sheer torture. Nigel debated jumping on his bike and going somewhere, anywhere, just to feel useful. He thought of riding downtown to see if he could ride in the ambulance with Farrah when they found her, or down to the hospital where they might take her, but the only thing he could think of was, _what if they call while I'm riding and I don't hear the phone ring?_ He knew that he would want to answer right away, especially if she was awake to talk to him. He knew that she would want to talk to him; no matter how much of an idiot he was, yelling into the phone like that. She wouldn't blame him, no matter how much he blamed himself. 

In the end, he contended with pacing the break room, checking the clock every two seconds, wondering what was taking so long.

'Will you stop it?' Bug snapped. He was sitting at the table, nursing a large cup of very strong tea, his eyes flitting back and forth between the surface of his drink and the clock.

Nigel opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as his cell phone – which he had dropped on the table to stop himself from flipping it open every two seconds – rang.

Both he and Bug stared at it until the caller ID lit up. Its shrill cry was now coupled with a red and green light, and the word WOODROW, blinking up at them.

They both dove at it in the same instant. Somehow, Nigel got there first.

'Woodrow?' he gasped, flipping the phone open and pressing it to his ear. Bug stood on his toes beside him and attempted to listen in on the conversation.

Nigel almost fainted when he heard a delicate, feminine voice reply on the other end, 'No. But if you want to talk to him I'll grab him for you.'

'Farrah?'

'Yes?'

'_Farrah?'_

'Hello.'

'Farrah! Are you – what's going on? Are you okay? Where are you? Can I – I'm coming. Where are you?'

'Which question would you like me to answer first?'

Nigel laughed jovially into the phone. 'Where are you? – I'm coming to see you.'

'I'm right here.'

The voice, however, was not coming from the earpiece. He heard the snap of a cell phone being shut, and he whirled around on the spot. His lips stretched over too many teeth as he saw Farrah Edwards standing meekly in the door.

'Tada.'

Nigel bounded across the room, and in what seemed both to be a moment and an age, he had her held tightly in his grasp. '_Never _do that to me again,' he murmured into her hair. 'Never. Never. _Never_.'

She chuckled, and muttered, 'I'm sorry.' She sniffed, and through audible tears, said quietly, 'Don't let go. Please don't let go.'

With her gentle words, he only clutched her tighter, and told her, 'Never, luv. Never again.'

* * *

A/N Ahhh... sigh... 'young love' as the saying goes, though both of my characters are older than me... now, just so you know, this chapter was actually written with the next as a single, extremely long chapter, but I decided that they were better seperate. If you want to review for each seperately, however, go right ahead. 

Also, I would like to know how many readers I may lose if I bump this story up to an M level. I'm going to guess not many, because Crossing Jordan is a matureish show, but just in case. The next chapter is heavier, and just in advance I would really appreciate reviews on it. It's taken me longer to write this next chapter, just because it's heavier emotionally, and has a stronger physical theme. Nothing a teen (eg. me) wouldn't be able to read, though.

Anyways, thanks for the reviews all, and I'll try and be faithful in my update rate.

I swear.

Love,

Jacinta.

PS. Random fact: the cop car's ID number is my birthday. June 4th 1990. YAY!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N Like I said in the last chapter - I _loved_ this chapter. Really. Really really. So I hope you enjoy it, too, and enough to review. And please tell me what you think. And answer the question I posted in the previous chapter.

I'll reiterate here: if you would stop reading if I bumped this to a higher rating (ie. 'M' - aka. honest to goodness sex scenes) then please let me know. I may be able to work around it. Or, I'll just warn you when it's coming up. But just let me know. Thanks a bundle. Jacinta.

* * *

They only lingered long enough for everyone to marvel at Farrah's quick rescue. After ten minutes, Farrah was able to plea exhaustion and ask Nigel to bring her back to the hotel.

They didn't say a word until they walked through the door of her new, complimentary penthouse, and she pulled him onto the couch and sat down next to him.

They sat silently for a time, side by side, only their shoulders touching. After a moment, however, she turned her bruised face to him and cried, 'Oh, _Nigel_…' Nigel ran his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his chest as a torrent of tears burst forth from Farrah's hazel eyes. 'Oh, Nigel, _oh, Nigel_…' she chanted, tucking her legs beneath her so she was curled wholly on his lap. Suddenly, Nigel realized how small and delicate this girl was. He wrapped his arms firmly around her, and kissed her hair. 'Nigel, thank you. Thank you _so_ much… you really saved me. I… I, um…'

'Don't. Don't mention it, Farrah, please.' Nigel held her gently, but far enough away so he could look into her wide, tear-flooded eyes. 'I was thinking. Before. When you called, actually…' He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, and leaned back again. 'This may not be the most opportune moment, luv, but I wanted to tell you something…'

In the moment he paused, the corners of Farrah's mouth turned up, and she leaned in to softly plant her lips onto his. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and pressed harder into him, her tongue running against his lips. For a moment, Nigel was frozen, afraid to do the wrong thing, to scare her. But when she pulled back and gasped out, '_Please_, Nigel?' it was everything he could do to not devour her right there on the spot.

Nigel wrapped his arms tightly around her delicate waist, and let one run gently up her back to push her head forward, to intensify the kiss. She pushed harder with her tongue, and when he allowed her entrance, she variably assaulted his mouth.

For a moment, Nigel was lost in her lips, and in the feeling of her kiss. She seemed to realize this, because she used his weakness to her advantage. She pulled him down on top of her, and entwined her fingers in his ebony hair.

Nigel couldn't help but become engrossed in her scent, and he began kissing lower, deeper. He strayed away from her mouth, and kissed along her jaw, he neck, her collarbone. Her nails dug in through the back of his flimsy sweater, and she cried out his name.

'Nigel –' she gasped, curving her back to move her body closer to his. '_Oh, Nigel.' _

He ran his hands up her skin beneath her silken pyjama top, and made his way slowly to her beautiful, ample breasts.

'Oh, Nigel, please. _Please, Nigel, please!_' she cried, throwing her head back and her chest out.

Suddenly, he came to his senses, and lifted his lips away from her neck to scrutinize her features.

What he saw was a battered girl, glowing with lust and passion – and fear.

'No.'

That one syllable was almost impossible for him to mutter. Here he had the woman he loved practically begging him to have sex with her, to be her first… but he couldn't do it. Not like this.

'Nigel – Nigel, please.' Her voice came out as a squeak, and her arms tightened their grip on his neck, her nails pressing into his skin.

'No.'

'But – but Nigel…' He could hear a slight panic, almost hysteria, behind her words, and that only solidified his resolve. 'Nigel – please. I – I _need _this.'

'No,' he repeated a third time. 'What you need is sleep. And food. I swear to you I won't leave your side, Farrah, but I refuse to sleep with you now.'

'But you want to. I can _tell_ you _want_ to.' She lifted her leg gently, and ran it up his.

Nigel closed his eyes momentarily, and took a deep, rattling breath. 'No.'

He was still lying on top of her, and he saw her features contort into frustration, the bruises from Tyler becoming more predominant with time. 'But _why?_'

'Christ, Farrah! You were just kidnapped! You were almost raped! You were beaten and hurt and you're running on empty! You've barely slept in days, you had your head bashed on a _coffee table_, and you've eaten nothing but a bite of bagel since Friday night! Not to mention that I refuse to take the virginity of a women when she so obviously is not ready to give it away!' Nigel jumped up and took a step away from the couch.

'But I _am_ ready! I want to –'

'No, you don't, Farrah! You think you want to, but really it's because you're scared. Right? You've come close to having your virginity stolen _twice_, and now you want to make sure that when you _do _lose it it's on your own terms. But this isn't on your own terms. Not really. Believe me, luv, I would like nothing better than to proceed with ripping off every stitch of clothing you have on right now and taking you right here on the floor, but I'll only let myself do that if that's what you really want me to do!'

'I'm _thirty years old_, damnit!' Farrah cried, standing up to meet him. 'I'm thirty years old and a virgin for Christ's sake! I think I can handle the loss of something I've been meaning to lose since high school!'

'No, you can't!' Nigel replied. 'You don't understand the seriousness of it, Farrah.'

_'You're treating me like a child!_'

'You _are_ younger than me!'

'By eight years! We've been through this already! Plus, I've been this age ever since I can remember, and I haven't been able to get past it! What I need right now, Nigel, is sex. Take me now, or by God I'll go somewhere else!' Her voice was reaching hysterical levels.

'You wouldn't.' This time, his voice was serene. It wasn't a challenge, but an assurance.

'Oh, really?' she shrieked. 'And how the _hell_ would you know?'

'Because,' he said, 'you waited fourteen years for the right man to come along. You're not just going to throw that all away because I refuse to ruin your first time.' He stepped forward, and held her arms gently to her side. Boring holes into her eyes, he said quietly, 'Farrah, I love you, and I would never, _ever_, do anything to hurt you. I would rather die than have you hurt.'

She stood, mouth gaping, eyes wide, face red, for many moments. Nigel, sensing the slacking of tension in the atmosphere, let go of her shoulders and opened his arms. She took no time to engross herself in his comforting embrace. She wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, and clung on hard enough that Nigel was sure he would find bruises later on. He ran his around her petite shoulders. 'I'm sorry,' she cried softly. 'I-I just…'

'I know.' He half led, half carried her into the bedroom, and, after unfastening her from his waist, tucked her under the covers. He then slipped off his shoes, and, fully clothed, joined her. He held her frail form next to his chest as she cried, her face buried in his neck.

And just before he heard her breathing slow into a dreamless sleep, he heard her murmur, 'I love you, too, you know,' into his chest.

And that's how Nigel Townsend - charming, debonair, happy-go-lucky soldier-turned-criminalist extraordinaire Nigel Townsend- cried himself to sleep with the woman he loved asleep in his arms.

* * *

A/N The only bad thing about this chapter is that it is over. Review, and remember my question. Love, Jacinta. 


	18. Chapter 18

Hello, all. It's being cancelled. They're killing it. Sigh. I cannot express how disappointed I am, so I'll just shush so you can read. Ciao. Jm.

* * *

When Nigel drifted into consciousness late the next morning, it took him a moment to realize where he was, and that he was alone. He could feel where another body had lain, though, and he could feel the draft where the comforter had been flipped over. He opened his eyes against the pale light of the room, and sat up gently, groaning slightly when he felt a slight pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he lifted his sweater and, sure enough, there was a thin, arm-width bruise from where Farrah had clung on the night before. 

He rubbed his eyes, stood, and made his way to the front room.

He found Farrah sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her, balancing a large mug of tea on her knees. On the table beside her was a tray with two full English breakfasts laid out impeccably. Neither had been touched.

'Good morning,' Nigel muttered, sitting down at her feet. 'Are you okay?'

Not getting a reply, he shook her foot gently, and was met with a deer-in-the-headlights gaze until she visibly shook herself, and replied, 'Huh?'

Nigel smiled, and said again, 'Are you okay?'

She returned the smile, and chuckled, 'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just still a little tired. And hungry.' Raising his eyebrows in scepticism, he motioned towards the piles of eggs, sausage, beans, and toast sitting mere feet from her. 'I don't like to start without everyone present.'

Nigel chuckled. 'You could've woken me, you know.'

'See, I would've, but somehow I realized after shaking and prodding you for about fifteen minutes that you weren't going to respond to anything but a gunshot. And I seem to have left my semiautomatic back in London, so...' She shook her head amusedly, and then looked down into her mug. She glanced back up again, and asked, 'I didn't imagine yesterday, did I?'

Nigel sighed patiently, and replied softly, 'No, luv. But it's ok, I-'

'No, no, no, not that.' She blushed, and shifted her fingers on the cup. 'You said you love me.'

'Oh, that.'

'Yes, _that_.'

'Well,' he shrugged, 'it's true, you know.'

'I know.' She set her mug aside, lay down with her head in his lap, and ran her hand softly over his rumpled sweater. 'Did you hear _me_ last night?'

He nodded, and grinned down at her. 'You said you love me.'

'Mmhm. I do, you know.'

'I know.' He wiped a few stray hairs out of her eyes, and took her hand in his. He lifted it gently to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She giggled like a schoolgirl in reply, but winced slightly when, as she placed her free hand in front of her lips, she pushed down on the bruise Tyler had left the day before. 'You okay?' he asked, gently caressing the deep purpling handprint.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.' She sat up slightly and laid her head on his chest, resting under his arm. She lightly smacked his stomach, which had growled at her movement, and he jerked. Her face contorted in a slight confusion, and she asked, 'What's up with that?' He laughed lightly and lifted his sweater, showing her the marks she had left the night before. 'Oh. My. _God_. I am _so _sorry!' Farrah placed her hand on the darkest bruise and said, 'You poor, poor thing! Here,' she said chirpily, and lowered her head to kiss it better.

Nigel laughed, and pulled her up to meet his gaze. They remained locked like that for a moment, until their lips met in the middle of the gap.

'Now,' Nigel told her, pulling away, 'no dessert before breakfast. _You _need to eat. You're far too thin.'

Farrah snorted and sat back onto the couch, keeping Nigel's hand draped over her waist. '_Far too thin_,' she muttered amusedly. 'You're by far the thinner of the two of us per centimetre in height, you know.'

Nigel rolled his eyes, leant forward to grab one of the plates, and set it in his lap. He picked up a small piece of sausage with a pretentious silver fork and said, 'Here. You take a bite, I take a bite. Deal?' She didn't reply, merely opened her mouth. Her eyes sparkled as she shut her lips on the silver utensil, and he slid it slowly out of her mouth. 'There. That wasn't so bad, was it?'

She chewed slowly, swallowed dramatically, and licked her lips. 'Yummy,' she said, and opened her mouth for another.

'Ah, but it's my turn,' Nigel chided as he lifted a little pile of baked beans to his lips. He saw Farrah's face fall dramatically, and she pouted her lips at him. After he finished chewing, Nigel sighed, '_Fine_,' and lifted another bite of sausage into her mouth. 'Better?'

'Mmhmm.'

'Don't talk with your mouth full, luv, it's rude.'

And in reply, she swallowed and stuck out her tongue.

'Oh, _really_.' He scooped up a piece of egg and moved to put it in her mouth, but intentionally missed, and instead hit the tip of her Roman nose, leaving behind a large yellow spot of yolk.

Nigel laughed genially, and soon they were both doubled over laughing, covered in food.

They continued like this, both of them being stubborn and childish in turn, until Farrah had eaten a whole breakfast and a half on her own.

'Urrgh,' Farrah sighed, lying back against Nigel's chest. She let her head fall backwards so she was looking up at him. 'Know what I feel like doing now?'

'Nothing?'

'Absolutely, _positively_ nothing.' She curled up so her entire form was enclosed in Nigel's arm, and laid her head on his chest. She sighed, letting her shoulders lift and fall dramatically. 'Dr. Macy isn't expecting you back soon, is he?'

'No,' Nigel replied, leaning his chin on the crown of her head. 'He knows where I am, what I'm doing. He wouldn't call me in for _anything_.'

'Good.' She sighed again, and closed her eyes, letting her hand rest on his flat stomach. She began drawing circles around his navel. 'Know what I think?'

'What's that?'

'I think I should get Sarah's mum and dad to come here and pick up their daughter themselves.'

'And why's that?' Nigel asked, stroking her hair slightly, a bubble growing somewhere in his stomach.

'So I can stay here – in Boston – a little longer.' Suddenly, her demeanour changed, and she added hastily, 'If you want me to, of course.'

Confused, Nigel asked, 'Why on Earth would I _not_ want you to stay?'

'Well…' she started, 'because before I came along, your life was probably less chaotic – '

'With Jordan? You've got to be kidding.'

'­ ­– you had more chances to sleep around –'

'After last night, do you really think that matters to me?'

'-and, of course, I'm not exactly –'

'I refuse to listen to self deprecation, my dear.' With his last utterance, he had placed a long white finger gently to her lips. 'Especially when the one who is doing the deprecating could not be lovelier. And besides –'

'You love me.'

'Yes.'

'And I love you.'

'I certainly hope so.'

Farrah laughed, and ran her arms around Nigel's waist, gently this time. 'Thank you,' she sighed softly. 'But I'd think you'd get tired of me being such a… a downer on your unbelievably positive attitude.'

'A _downer_?'

'Well, I'm always crying o'er one thing or another.'

'…I see what you mean.'

'_Excuse me?'_

'Well, in the past two days, I've cried more over you than I ever have over myself.' Nigel shrugged, and looked down into the glowing honey orbs that were the eyes of his beloved.

'You've cried over me. I'm not sure what to say to that.'

'Say you'll never do that to me again. And that you'll stay in Boston after you call up your mate's mum and dad.'

Her face lit up into a brilliant smile, and she chirped out four beautiful, wonderful words. 'Pass me the phone.'

* * *

'…No. No, look, I just think it would be better if you came here and picked her up. See her in a non-threatening environment, show her support when she has to testify in court… I _know _it'll be difficult to hear. That's why I want you here. Do you know how better it was for _me _when _I _had to testify to know that I had someone in the courtroom supporting me?...' Nigel was listening intently to Farrah's side of the conversation, shifting every so often as he slid unintentionally down the couch. It was only when his neck was almost fully folded into his chest that Farrah was able to say, '_Thank you_, Christian. No, no, please, just tell her yourself. She'd rather hear it from you… Yeah. Yeah, I will… Thanks. I have to go, Christian... The door, someone's at the door. I have to go… Yeah… yeah. Okay. See you soon… You're welcome… G'bye.' She hung up the receiver and slid down into a perfect imitation of Nigel, slumped down and exhausted. 'Urgh. He's impossible… but they're flying out tomorrow morning. And they'll take Sarah home in a couple'a weeks, after the trial.' She sighed again, and started, 'So.' 

'So, what, luv?' He sat up straighter to try and correct the crick in his neck.

'So, _now_ what?'

And after a moment of silence, Nigel smiled.

'Get dressed, put on some lippie, and I'll show you Boston like you _should_ seeBoston.'

* * *

'Monet!' 

'Yes, luv. But you've been to Parishaven't you? The _Louvre_! And if I had known you were a lover of Monet I would have brought you here in the first place.'

After changing, Nigel had whisked Farrah off to Fenway Park, Quincy Market, Beacon Hill, and finally, the Museum of Fine Arts.

'Yes, but the Louvre is one thing. They don't have _these _paintings. Besides, I haven't been in _ages._ I dunno why. I _should_ go, though. Hey! We should go together. When's the last time you went back to Europe?'

There was a sobering moment while Nigel thought back to the last time he saw Big Ben on the horizon. 'I haven't been back… well, in _ages_ if you want to know the truth. _Years_.'

'_Really_? How come?' She continued her tour of the museum, Nigel following closely behind. He selfishly kept his hand on the small of her back, wanting to remind himself she was his.

'Well, I didn't really have a reason to go. My job is here, my friends are here…'

'What about your _family_?' she asked, turning back, wide-eyed, to meet his gaze.

'Well, I talk to my brother occasionally… but my dad and I… he got remarried a few years ago. Didn't tell me… has a baby boy now. I heard about him through my brother. My half brother, Frankie… he should be about six now…' He stopped, and only then realized that Farrah hadn't returned to looking at the paintings. She had stopped and turned to face him, and was resting her hands in his. He looked down where his thin ivory fingers were covering her graceful olive ones.

'What… what happened to your mom?' she asked softly, ducking down slightly to try and catch his eye.

'Died shortly after Elvis. I was ten…' He glanced up, and saw that Farrah's eyes were wide with compassion; but not false, like he usually saw. He let out a weak laugh and looked away. 'It's alright, it was so long ago.' The false smile stayed plastered on his face, trying to convince both himself and her.

'It's _not_, Nigel. I mean… _Nigel_. Nigel, if it were alright, you would look at me.'

The smile faded as he looked back and saw her eyes had not wavered.

Farrah lifted her hand to caress his cheek, and held it there on the hollows. She smiled lightly. 'I know how it feels to lose a parent, Nigel. To lose two. But… but to never see them, even though they're alive? I don't know how you can do it. Maybe… maybe we could do just that. You and me. One day, we could hop on a plane and you can… you know… see how you feel. It's hard as hell to take the first step, to extend the proverbial olive branch, but once it's out there… then you'll feel better knowing that you might soon be reunited. I've known people who don't see someone out of pride or shame, and really, is that any way to leave things?'

'Farrah, you just –' he started, clearly upset.

'I'm sorry, I know it's not my place. I just wanted to help…' She dropped her hands, and with it her gaze, and Nigel, again, felt that overwhelming feeling of devotion radiating from the woman in front of him.

'No, _no, _that's not it.' Softening his tone, he pinched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, and lifted her eyes to meet his. 'I just… I don't know if I can be that…' He paused, looking for the right word.

'Humble?' she smiled, lifting her hand to his wrist, holding it in place.

'Precisely,' Nigel laughed as he encircled her in his long, lanky arms. 'Although I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not.'

And, of course, she didn't reply. Just shrugged.

'_Thanks_. Yet another blow to my ego.'

'That _oh so delicate_ entity.'

'See? I don't know if I should stay in such a harsh relationship.' Nigel began laughing, deep and jovial.

'But you know what they say! The worse the arguments, the better the sex!' she exclaimed, laughing, too – until she noticed a group of Catholic school children walk by, escorted by a very stern-looking nun.

Nigel pulled Farrah out into the courtyard, both of them now laughing hysterically.

'It looked… like she wanted to… to stick you with a… a… a crucifix!' Nigel gasped, hiccoughing.

'She _did_!' Farrah echoed, holding her hand on his chest. 'Oh, my, if looks could _kill_ I would be a dead woman!'

'I have a suggestion,' Nigel said, lifting Farrah up by her elbows and spinning her around. '_I_ am in the mood to get terribly, undeniably, _unquestionably_ drunk. How about we swing 'round to a local shop and grab a bottle of wine and get marvellously smashed. Or _ouzo_. Or rum. _Rum!_ The drink of _pirates_. Whatever your fancy!'

Farrah laughed along with him, though somewhat belatedly, and cried, '_Drunk?_ You British and your liquor! Alright, you – I don't do this often… well, never, actually – but damned if I'm going to miss out on the fun. Lead the way, Nigel, you know better than I – though I must say I make a damn good daiquiri.'

'Rum it is, then!'

As they left, the draconian-looking nun watched them with a scowl on her face.

And _that_ just made them laugh harder.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, and please please please review - I'll be updating quite a bit this evening, and some constructive criticism would be loverly :). Ciao!Jm. 


	19. Chapter 19

Tada! Toldja I'd be updating... please enjoy, and review... and see the a/n the end for a warning... ciao. jm.

* * *

That night, Nigel and Farrah sat on the floor in front of the gas fireplace in the penthouse suite's living room, trying to decide who the best storyteller was.

'… so then, he blows up!'

'_What?_ What do you mean, _he blows up_?' Farrah asked, pouring a rum and mango mix into her frosted glass.

'He blew up! Like a hamster in a microwave!' Nigel exclaimed, throwing his arms up.

'A _hamster-!?'_

'We must've ignited the gasses in the lower intestine with the saw while we were trying to cut the ribcage, but –'

'Okay! Okay, _too _much information! What did you _do?_'

'Well, we put him back together, didn't we!'

'Of course you did…'

'Well, it _was_ funny – that is, after we were sure the rabbis weren't going to sue us.'

'_Sue you_? I'd think they were going to _murder_ you – _you blew him up!_'

'Purely accidental!'

'Okay, okay, fine. You blew up a dead man – but imagine baking so terribly that not even livestock would eat it.'

'_What_ are you talking about?'

'My mom was a _horrid_ cook. Couldn't cook to save her life. One day, she makes a cake. This big, fruity, cheesy monstrosity. Can barely get it out of the pan. _Obviously_ no one wants to try it, so she has to throw it out. _She_ won't even try it, it looks so rancid. So, she brings it into the back where the neighbours keep chickens. She throws it out to them. They walk up to it –' She motioned a chicken's jerky movements '-take one look-' She tilted her head to the side curiously '­-and they _run_. I swear you've never seen chickens book it like these ones did.'

'No way.'

'Really! She was _that bad_. I _always_ used to tease her about it…' She trailed off, the wild smile fading ever so slightly.

'And now you can't tease her at all?' Nigel asked, taking her hand.

Farrah sighed. 'Yeah. Pretty much.'

They sat in silence for a moment, their skin still blushing from laughter, their grins still plain. But there was something more between them.

'Know what?' Nigel asked suddenly, laying his head onto Farrah's lap and looking up at her.

'What?' she asked, putting down her drink and placing her ice cold hand on his forehead.

'_I _think that you were right.'

'Of course I was. About what, exactly?'

'That I should go back to London. See the family, all that. Besides, it's been _ages_ since I had a half decent plate of fish and chips. They drown everything with catsup and cheese here – and lately I've been craving deep fried mars bars covered in sugar.'

'That is _disgusting_. I had one bite a few years ago and I almost threw up.'

'What! Next thing you'll be telling me is you can't stand bread and butter pudding!'

'Well…'

'_No_!'

'It's just so damn unhealthy! I never ate _McDonalds_ out of principal, and then I just… couldn't stand intensely deep fried, fat filled foods!'

'C'mon, luv, it's not as bad as that! All's well in moderation.'

'… ewe.'

'That's it – when we go to England I'm bringing you out and we're going to go for the single most unhealthy outing you'll've ever been on.'

'Oh, no. No, no, no. I refuse! That's _gross_. And unhealthy. And… and _icky!_' Her words were beginning to slur slightly as the rum caught up to her system.

'Icky?' Nigel burst out laughing, and rolled onto his side. 'You attended Oxford and all you've got to show for it is _icky_?'

'Icky is a perfectly respectable descriptor!' Farrah cried pompously, pushing him off her lap. 'It's… it's effective in portraying an unpleasant taste, isn't it?'

'Yes – but it's just so cutesy! Like this one time, we were at Jordan's for dinner, and Dr Macy described having sex six times in a day, saying that we're humans, not 'bunnies'. It was just so perfectly out of character, it was _hilarious_. That was, of course, _after_ I brought out a bottle of ouzo.' Nigel sat up and pulled Farrah close, kissing her on her glowing cheeks. 'You're cute when you're drunk.'

'I'm not _drunk_. I'm buzzed. _Ladies_ do not get _drunk.' _She pronounced her t's and k's impeccably, and that only made them burst out laughing once again.

'Well, then, you're obviously not a lady!'

Farrah's mouth opened wide in shock, and she pushed him playfully aside.

'I _am_ a lady. Or, at least, that's what everyone tells me. I've always been the 'lady', you know.'

'I can see that,' he laughed, imitating her slur.

'No, really. Ever since elementary. I was the one who looked ten years too old, who was ten years too mature, who was ten years ahead of everyone else – but… ten years behind. Kinda. If that makes any sense.'

'I suppose so. You were an only child, your best friend was immature, you grew up around adults, not children… and your soul seems old.'

She was silent for a moment, and mumbled, more to herself than to him, 'I... suppose ...'

Nigel sat beside her, and held her so her head was resting on his shoulder. 'Luv?'

'Mmm.' There was a pensive silence as the gas fireplace flickered soberly. 'My parents… their car accident… my dad was… he, um… he had been drinking… and, uh… smoking… he just…' Tears started rolling silently down her cheeks. 'Not smoking. _Smoking_.' She looked up at Nigel, willing him to understand without her having to say it. 'He did that a lot. He... that's why I was so scared... but… he was always doing that… and then mum got to yelling at him… God knows why she let him drive… and when I think of the times I got in the car with him…'

'Was he…?'

'To this day, I have no idea. I don't… I don't like to think about…'

'Addiction?'

She shuddered at the word.

'He was my _daddy_. He took care of me… but… he would… would get tipsy or high… and mum would come home and start in on me… '_Farrah, why are you letting him drink so much? Why are you letting him smoke? Tell him you want him to stop._' But… I just… I just _couldn't_. He was my _daddy_. He was… was…'

'She put the responsibility on you.'

'She would come home, and… she'd take all her frustrations out on dad and me. She'd yell at us about the state of the kitchen, the bedrooms, the bathrooms… and about dad's… dad's hobbies. She'd be lovely one moment, terrible the next. You'd never know how to act around her because she might be in a mood…'

Nigel pulled her closer and kissed her hair. 'Luv… did she ever-'

'No!' she shouted a little too loud. 'She'd _never_ hit me. She threw things, but she would _never,_ never hit me. Daddy used to say that… that she'd hit _him _when they first got married, first had me…. Post-partum depression and all that… he got her to stop, though. But then she'd started banging doors shut, yelling – _screaming_ – madly, and throwing shoes and pans and dishes… I always felt like I had to be grown up and take care of them… mum cried to me more than I ever cried to her…'

'Oh, Farrah…'

'Sometimes I just _hated _them… that's one of the reasons I moved so far away… but now, I miss them so much, Nigel… I dunno how you can stay away from your dad when he's still alive. All I have in aunts and uncles and cousins who I was never really… dedicated to. But my mum and dad…'

'Farrah…'

They descended into a deep, brooding silence then, Nigel stroking Farrah's back, shoulders, and neck as she sobbed erratically into his lap. It was only until long after her tears ceased that Nigel heard felt Farrah's breathing, calm and slow. ­­

Soon afterwards, he, too, was asleep – but not without promising himself that he would never, ever again think of getting smashed as an acceptable passing of time.

* * *

A/N Sooooo?! Okay, just so you know - random fact time - I actually got the cake story from my mom. Her family kept chickens and she made this cake that was so bad, they actually ran away from it. I'm not even kidding. 

To continue, it is time to chance this story to an 'M' story. The next chapter will see to that. If you have any qualms, let me know - but if not...

And if you like/love/hate/dislike/dispise/admire/etc anything about the story/my writing/the characters/etc... let me know? I'm all for improving my style, you know...

You know you love me,

JacintaM.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N I know. It's short. But really. Could it be any better by squishing it with something else? Ciao.Jm.

* * *

Nigel awoke early the next morning, and he was pleased to see Farrah had not arisen before him. She was still there, lying on the floor beside him, eyes closed in contentment. He watched her chest rise and fall gently as she slept on, and her eyelashes tickle her rosy cheeks. He shut his eyes again, and listened to the muted city outside, the rhythmic beating of Farrah's heart.

And then, without any warning at all, Farrah's hand moved down from Nigel's chest. It lingered at the waistband of his jeans for a moment, and then slowly, nervously, ventured farther down.

Nigel's eyes shot open, and he turned his head to gaze into the now open eyes of the woman lying beside him. His heartbeat began to race as her fingers reached beneath his boxers, and he immediately took her up in his arms. He lifted her up onto her knees, mirrored her pose, and planted his lips on hers.

They remained vertical for only a few moments as they began to undress, pulling each other's layers off in turn. Nigel peeled off Farrah's blouse, and then her camisole, leaving her only in a plain black bra; Farrah lifted Nigel's t-shirt and jumper off in one go, leaving his pale torso fully exposed. Their lips left the other's for as little time as possible.

His tongue graze Farrah's lower lip, and she opened her mouth. They met in a fury of passion as he lifted her off her knees, and set her back against the floor. Her hands, having left his jeans, were wrapped tightly around his neck, and began again exploring his torso, running across his flat stomach, and pressing her nails into his spine. When she stopped on his neck, she gently pushed him down towards her neck, and breasts, lifting her torso to meet his lips. He did so, obligingly, and he began chewing on her collarbone, running his fingers sensually across her stomach, along the base of her brazier, and underneath. He dove deeper, and began leaving trails of kisses down her chest. She cried out when his lips finally met the soft skin surrounding her hardened nipple. He felt her nails run deeper into the skin of his back, and he continued sucking until he heard her scream his name.

They explored each other's bodies, kissing and sucking until Farrah reached for the button on Nigel's jeans. He froze for a moment, but then relented when she murmured, 'I'm ready, love.'

He didn't need telling twice; the surety in her voice was enough to convince him. He slowed down, kissed down to her navel, unbuttoned her slacks, and shimmied them down, along with her lacy black underwear. She kicked them off, and was left in nothing but a silver heart-shaped pendant.

She looked up at him hungrily, and he gazed down at her tanned, beautiful body, flushed pink with lust. How he could have ever thought 'skinny' was more attractive he didn't know. The way her body curved softly beneath him, how her feminine figure fit so well in his hands, he couldn't imagine anything more beautiful.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down slowly, but before he threw them away, reached into his back pocket and pulled a condom out of his wallet.

Those boy scouts sure were right about something.

As he rested his knees on either side of Farrah's hips, he ran his finger along her cheek and kissed her softly, keeping his eyes on hers the entire time.

And when she cried out in pain and ecstasy as she finally lost her virginity to the man she loved, her hand was in his the entire time.

* * *

a/n so I ammended it a bit - and I'm off to camp RIGHT after exams... but the next is on its way and should be up by the end of the week. ciao.JM. 


	21. Chapter 21

Once they had finished, both reaching their brink simultaneously, Farrah had curled up into Nigel's chest and held on until her breathing had slowed and she had seemed to have fallen back asleep.

Nigel, on the other hand, simply laid there, his arms encircling Farrah's beautiful body. He couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve _her_; thinking of how lovely she looked as she slept… such peace.

Until, that is, he realized what they had just done. What _he _had just done.

He had just… they had just… he had just…

He could feel a flush come over his entire body as he reminisced about the feeling of Farrah's soft skin under his fingers… the feeling of her tongue assaulting his mouth… the feeling of _her _only moments before. He tightened his grip slightly on her bare skin, trying to convince himself she was real, revelling in the fact that she was.

And then he saw his cell phone flash with three impossibly ill-timed neon green letters.

_Bug_.

_Bloody hell_…

Bug was going to kill him.

* * *

Attempting not to wake Farrah, who was still curled in his arms, Nigel reached over her to the coffee table, and flipped the phone open and shut; and before Bug could call back again, he turned the volume down as low as it would go. He refused to ruin this perfect moment. 

He lay back down on the floor and rested his chin on Farrah's forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair; tropical fruit and just a hint of perfume. He lost himself for a moment, still in disbelief he had such a woman in his arms.

Until his phone began flashing angrily at him once more.

'I'm not going anywhere,' a soft, sleepy voice said from beneath him. 'Tell them to go away. We're sleeping.'

Nigel was shocked into silence for a moment, not thinking she had been awake. After a moment, he told her plainly, 'It's Bug, though.'

He felt more than saw her body grow warm with a flush that covered every inch of her. 'Oh.'

'Yes, _oh_.'

'Well… what might it be about?'

'At…' he checked the clock '… five in the morning? Probably a massive pileup on the freeway or something. Nothing life-threatening.'

She half snorted, half sighed in resignation and leant her head against his chest once more. 'He'll know you're here. He'll just start calling the hotel room.'

'This is true…'

'So? Answer. Even better, call him back. It'll make you seem less guilty.'

'…somehow I don't think that would make a difference when it comes to Bug.'

'Oh, of course it would. He wouldn't kill you. Maim, mangle, and mouth off, maybe…'

'That makes me feel better.'

'Hmm. Well, what about the fact that I won't leave your hospital bed side until you're all better?'

'Will you kiss my booboos better?'

She chuckled at his words, and sighed, 'Every last one of them.'

'Pass me the phone…'

* * *

'Where the _hell_ have you been?' were Bug's first words when Nigel heard the phone connect. 

'Bug, please calm down, I – '

'Nigel, we need you out here. There was a massive pileup in the TWT – lots of casualties. Dr Macy says we need all hands on deck.'

Nigel sighed, and said, 'I'm kind of in the middle of something, Bug, can't I -?'

'_In the middle of something_? What could _you_ be –? wait… Farrah?'

'Bug, if you stay calm and take a deep breath –'

'Nigel, is she there?'

'... yes.'

'Where are you?' Nigel didn't respond, so Bug added, 'Why are you at her _hotel room_ at _five in the morning_?' The silence spoke for itself. '_Nigel! _Put her on the phone.'

'Now, Buggles, be _reasonable_ – '

'Don't _now Buggles_ me, Nigel! _Put her on the phone_.'

Nigel had to pull the phone away from his ear to stop Bug from causing permanent hearing damage. 'He wants to talk to you.'

Farrah grimaced, and took the phone gingerly. 'Hello? Hi, Mahesh, what's… Mahesh! What're you-?… _That _is none of your business!…. Mahesh – no, listen… I'm thirty years old and I - ! … No, he didn't!' She blushed at the next question, and muttered, '_Yes_, Bug, of _course _we used a… I _know that_! I may've been a virgin, but I'm not an idiot!... _Bug_!' She sighed, and shook her head, blushing to the roots of her hair. 'Bug, please, can't you just –'

It was not Bug who cut her off this time, though. Nigel had motioned to her to hand him the phone. Placing the receiver to his ear, Nigel heard Bug's final words.

'… I just want you to be happy, Farrah, and I know you love him but you're going back to England soon, what'll you do then?'

'I'll move back with her.' Farrah's eyes widened at Nigel's words, and she grasped for his free hand as he reached for hers.

'… Nigel?' Bug asked, shocked at who had responded.

'Sorry, mate, thought you were berating her with inappropriate questions. Don't want my girl upset. She's still recovering from previous situations, savvy?'

'You can't be serious, Nige… I mean… you can't just _leave. _What'll you do back in England?'

'I dunno. Join Scotland Yard. Work in a shop. Rejoin the navy.' His voice began to fill with a happy, exhausted, lilting laughter. 'But I know one thing for sure.' He paused, kissed Farrah's hands, and looked straight into her eyes. 'I'll be with the woman I love.'

There was silence at both ends for a moment, until Bug and Farrah said simultaneously, 'You do know that you'd be leaving everything in Boston.'

'Yup, I know,' he replied to neither in particular. 'But Farrah, you're worth it. You're worth everything I have – everything I am – and more.'

There was silence again, and Nigel could hear Dr Macy calling to Bug what was taking him so long.

'I'll be right there, Dr Macy,' Bug called in the background. 'No, I didn't get a hold of him. I think his phone's off. . . I was just leaving a message…' There was another pause as Farrah watched Nigel's face intently, looking for any indication of how the conversation was going. Finally, Bug returned to the phone. 'Alright, Nige, you're lucky this time… but… don't forget to visit.'

Unsure of whether Bug was speaking of after he and Farrah had moved, or just of when they had had their fill of each other for the day, Nigel decided to reply in an equally cryptic manner. 'Of course I will. Could you keep me away?'

'One could only hope. Give the phone to Farrah for a moment.'

Nigel did so without another word, and he saw her smile as she murmured into the phone, 'Hey, M… thanks… I love you, too, Mahesh… see you… I promise… goodbye.' She gently flipped the phone shut, and placed it, almost religiously on the coffee table, following it serenely with her eyes. She then tilted her head slightly, smiled crookedly up at Nigel, and sighed, 'Why do you have to be so damn amazing?'

* * *

Hope you enjoyed; review! Jacinta. 


	22. Chapter 22

'So… what do we do now?' Farrah asked, leaning gently on her elbows and looking up past Nigel's naked torso and into his eyes.

'What d'you mean, luv?' he countered, glancing past her eyes, rather crassly, to the love bites covering her neck and chest, and back up to her eyes again.

'Well… you said you would move to England with me… is that what you really want?'

Nigel thought about it for a moment, and, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, murmured, 'As long as I'm with you. I've not been back in _ages_… maybe it's time I return to that little island 'cross the pond… return to my roots.' Farrah's face split into an enormous grin, and she pulled herself up to wrap her arms around him. For a moment, their still-naked bodies pressed up against each other, a reminder of the events of that morning, a whisper of what was to come. Nigel's heart skipped a beat as he felt her rub at her eyes, and when her fingers clutched at his skin again, he felt moisture. Sure enough, moments later, her shoulders started shaking slightly. 'Are you okay?' He started leaning away, wanting to wipe her tears away, to kiss her tears away, but she only held on tighter, her entire torso pressed up against his.

'Don't let go, Nigel. Please don't let go.'

He tightened his hold, and kissed her shoulder instead. 'I won't, luv. Not ever, if you don't want me to.' She laughed until he could feel her shake in hysterics. 'Breathe, luv. Remember to breathe.' That only made her laugh harder. '_What_ is so funny?'

'How awkward would that be? You trying to autopsy a body and you're holding on to me… me arguing in court and I've got you hanging off my neck…'

He started laughing, too, and soon they were giggling madly together, holding on for dear life. When they finally stopped, they both sighed simultaneously, until Farrah muttered, 'I love you, Nigel. Just… just remember that. Forever and for always.'

'I'll love you forever; I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my darling you'll be.'

'Robert Munch.'

'Yeah.'

'Always loved that book,' she chuckled. 'But that still begs the question… what do we do _now_?'

She was met with a meditative silence.

'I don't know…'

* * *

In the end, Farrah convinced him to join everyone at the morgue, so she could get ready for the arrival of Sarah's parents later that day. He did not, however, let her go until she promised she would keep the door locked until she was ready to leave, and would not leave unless she had the concierge meet her in the hallway.

He rode to the morgue in a sort of daze, his mind still reeling on what had transpired – not only during the night, but over the past week. He had met a woman, an amazing woman, and had fallen in love. He was ready to give up his life in Boston and travel with her back to England, back to his home. Because, really, as much as he loved so much about Boston – the city itself, the people, the job… he had never really felt _American_. It had been a sort of stop over – albeit, a long one – before he moved on to something better.

He stepped through the doors of the morgue lift, his helmet under his arm, and he was assaulted by Jordan, who had just locked a gurney into place in front of one of the drawers. 'Nige!' she exclaimed, skipping over to him and wrapping one of her scrub-bearing arms around his neck. 'There you are, man, we were starting to get worried about you… is that the same shirt you were wearing yesterday?' Clearly, Bug had told her where he had been all morning.

'Yes, it is,' he sighed, removing himself from her arms. 'What's going on?'

'Seven car pileup TWT. Bug and Macy just left to get the last bodies,' she said lightly, waving the topic away as if it were of no importance. 'Isn't that the same shirt you were wearing yesterday?'

'I am somehow having a severe case of déjà vu,' he told her. He began moving towards the door and away to his desk to deposit his jacket and helmet.

Jordan, of course, followed.

'Oh, come _on_… there's a lull until the next wave of bodies get here – while you were _in bed_ the rest of us were working out tails off: we were all cutting and stitching and whatever, so I'm in need of gossip. Are you really leaving us?'

He stopped in his tracks, only a couple paces from his desk, and swivelled around. What exactly had good ol' Buggles told her? He stepped backwards and collapsed into the hard office chair. 'Yeah. Or, at least, I _think _so.'

'So you really love her, huh?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I do.' His eyes met Jordan's and he smiled his too-big smile. 'I love her.' His eyes wandered, and he repeated it softer, as if tasting the words. '_I love her_.' He looked up again, and grinned at Jordan as if he had just realized she was there. 'I love her, I _really really _love her.' He jumped up, and swirled her around, laughing out the words again and again.

'Woah, Nige, chill 'else she might get jealous,' Jordan laughed in turn, interrupting his tirade of proclamations. He stopped and hugged her close. 'Who are you, Tom Cruise?'

'I'll miss you, Jordan, luv, when I go – but you'll have to visit us.'

'For _sure_, Nige. I wouldn't miss your wedding for the _world_.'

Nigel froze, and held her at arms' length. 'Wait – what?'

'Wedding.' She spoke slowly, eyes widening emphatically, and nodding. 'You know – white everywhere? A gathering of family and friends? Marriage?... Drunk relatives making stupid toasts?'

'I know what a wedding _is_, Jordan.'

'Well, then?'

He released her, and sat down on his desk, gazing blankly at the floor. 'Marriage…'

'You are getting on in years, Nige,' she told him solemnly, leaning next to him. 'You're no spring chicken anymore. You should really think of settling down.' She received no reply, and she placed her hand on his back. 'Besides. You're moving in with her when you get to England, right? It's bound to come up eventually.'

'…_Marriage_…blimey…'

'And then children.'

'What?!'

'She wants kids, right?'

'…well, yeah…'

'So, that means that eventually, presumably soon 'coz you're not exactly young, you're going to have little Nigels and Farrahs in lacy little prams…' She was mock serious, using such British terms.

'What… why… I, uh…'

'Didn't you discuss any of this with Farrah?'

'Well, we, uh… we didn't really… um…' He shook his head rather violently, and repeated, 'Blimey… it's only been... she… I…'

Jordan clapped him on the shoulder, and said jovially, 'Oh come on Nige, you're fine. I was _kidding_… kinda. I'm sure she doesn't expect you to pop the question or anything right as you're stepping off the plane.'

Nigel couldn't quite believe himself. As Jordan spoke, he realized that, sure, he hadn't really thought about it thus far, but… what _would_ marriage be with Farrah? And children?

He could answer himself in a heartbeat.

Amazing.

Absolutely bloody _fucking_ fantastic.

'Don't tell Macy I was here, eh, Jordan?'

'Nigel, where are you -?'

'I have something I have to pick up.'

'Nige, I was _kidding!_'

'I'm not.'

He left her, then, grabbing his jacket and helmet off the desk. He didn't look back once.

Not even when he heard her laughing hysterically at his retreat.

* * *

'Might I help you, sir?' a snooty, French-sounding jeweller asked him as he wandered the cabinets. His unkempt appearance, consisting of his red-and-white leather jacket, worn black slacks, and thermal sweater over a slightly-too-large England t-shirt seemed to not quite endear him to the staff.

'Yeah, I'm, um, looking for an engagement ring,' Nigel told him, glancing around the cozy, yet sterile shop. Surrounding him were hundreds of precious stones and metals – and he was slowly but surely becoming rather intimidated by it all.

'Indeed. Well, what _sort_ of engagement ring are you looking for?' His words were quite obviously meant to be more along the lines of, _How much are you going to spend here today so I can get you out and move on to a more worthy -richer- client?_

Nigel pondered for a moment, and told him, 'I'm looking for something with history. An antique. Nothing too plain looking either.'

'Right this way…' He motioned for Nigel to follow, and led him to the far side of the store where a large locked cabinet held a variety of pieces, from broaches to necklaces to cameos to rings. The gentleman retrieved a key from deep within the silk of his jacket – a sharp contrast to Nigel's leather – and slid it smoothly into the case. Reaching in, he pulled out a golden wedding band sporting a clear, sparkling emerald surrounded by tiny glittering diamonds. 'This one features an exquisite emerald, and a floral mesh embedded with a dozen diamonds. It is one of our more _popular_ pieces.'

Nigel reached out to take it, and, rather reluctantly, the jeweller relinquished the piece. 'It _is_ lovely… how much -?'

'Two thousand, two hundred and twenty.'

'Could I see something else? Maybe something a little more… unique?'

The jeweller grimaced, and reached back into the case, this time pulling out a large, rather extravagant ring consisting of two aquamarine - 'Beryl' – stones, and positively covered in diamonds. 'Circa nineteen ten, this Edwardian-inspired piece is seven thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars.'

Nigel bit his tongue, wondering to himself why he would want to spend so much on something that looked like a bodyless dragonfly, and asked, 'Perhaps not _quite_ so unique… something smaller? Less… extravagant?'

Clearly concealing a sigh, the jeweller pulled out one last ring – and Nigel knew it was _the_ ring.

'This one hails from the late eighteen hundreds,' the jeweller told him, seeing the look of awe spread across Nigel's face. 'It is eighteen karat white gold filigree… single oval ruby surrounded by thirty-six circle-cut diamonds.' He handed the ring over, and said, 'It's fourteen hundred ninety five.'

'That'll be debit – and could I get a _nice_ box to go with it?'

* * *

A/N Hello, all. Ahh, I like cliff hangers, don't you? Well, that's all for now... I may not be able to update before I go to camp for six long and amazing weeks -WOOT!- but I hope you like for now. And just so you know, I put the ring that inspired me in my profile. Just in case you're curious.

Hope you enjoyed, and reviews are immensely appreciated.

JacintaM.


	23. Chapter 23

So, I'm back from camp. Enjoy!!

* * *

The next few weeks went by in a flourish of activity. Sarah's parents arrived that afternoon, and Farrah was up all day getting them settled, and reuniting them with their daughter. When night came, she returned to her hotel, where Nigel was waiting after picking up an assortment of clothing from his own apartment. They were both so exhausted they simply changed into their pyjamas and crawled into bed, Farrah's small frame enclosed in Nigel's protective grasp. 

This was their routine for the next six weeks; both of them working – Farrah in the courts, Nigel in the morgue – their paths crossing occasionally as the Whithalls retrieved their son; while the police conducted their investigation. They had drinks in front of the fireplace; they ate lavish dinners in the dining room. They spent all their free time together.

And still the engagement ring lay nestled in the folds of Nigel's coat pocket, his heart skipping a beat whenever his long ivory fingers brushed against the smooth velvet box.

The court dates for the man who had kidnapped Sarah and Farrah (always so amusing considering they had been best of friends – like their parents had known they would get together all along and named them accordingly) came and went quickly, as all parties involved wanted to return to their homelands. Guilty was the verdict, and soon, plans were being made for Sarah's trip home, and the day finally came when Nigel would be stepping on a plane to return to the island he fondly referred to as home.

Nigel wasn't sure whether or not he would be coming back to Boston after he whisked Farrah off to the other side of the Atlantic, so he decided that he would simply ask Dr Macy for all the days off he had compiled over the last ten years – which amounted to almost two months straight off. Macy agreed, but still began looking for a replacement. Just in case.

* * *

Their final night in Boston, Farrah booked a large table in the dining room of the hotel, and morgue staff and members of the BPD alike sat down to break bread, the morgue staff eyeing both Nigel and Farrah warily, wondering if tonight was the night when Nigel would pop the proverbial question – clearly, Jordan told had everyone about the box in his pocket. 

'There was blood _everywhere!_' Jordan was exclaiming from her side of the table upon seeing the gentleman at the next table squirm at his dining partner's undercooked steak. 'I mean – it was coming out of _every _hole in his body – and then some!'

'Jordan, come on, this isn't funny!' Woody was shushing her frantically, practically begging. 'I'll give you anything, Jordan, _please._'

'Man, you shoulda _seen_ it! The pool was _supposed _to be empty – but it was almost _ankle deep_ in blood, I swear. Nige had to take the photos for the scene - he had to roll his jeans up and take off his converses, eh, Nige?'

Nigel laughed, and replied jokingly, 'I dunno – the case down in Florida was pretty bad – remember when that crock got a hold of that rather obese gent? Couldn't sleep for a _week_ after that one.'

'Oh, man, tissue _everywhere!'_

This, incidentally, was when the man had begun to turn a rather iridescent shade of green and ran, holding a napkin to his pale lips, to the restroom.

'That was just cruel,' Farrah chided them, laughing along with the rest. 'He'll never be able to eat anything red or jiggly ever again!... neither will I, come to think of it…'

The table burst out into laughter again as their plates arrived.

* * *

By dessert, Nigel was beginning to notice distinctly the fleeting glances he was receiving from his coworkers. Even the newest member of the team, Dr Kate Switzer, was eyeing them with a wary expectation. He crossed his long fingers under the table, hoping Farrah didn't notice.

* * *

'What was that about?' Farrah asked him after they had all said their goodbyes and headed upstairs, well after midnight. 'Everyone was giving you funny looks all night.' 

'I – um – they still don't know if I'm coming back and they thought I was going to announce my plans tonight.'

'Oh…' she muttered, shrugging and sliding over the couch. The red, gauzy dress she wore shifted as she put her legs up onto the plush couch, her stiletto sandals resting on the back. 'So. We have a few hours until we have to leave for the airport…'

'Indeed we do, luv…' he chuckled, moving closer.

'And _I, _for one, have been feeling rather warn too thin, what with being bombarded by people the past few weeks…'

'Couldn't agree more…' He smiled, and sat down beside her, his slim hips fitting easily on the couch beside hers.

'So _I _say we take advantage of being alone for the next…' She checked the clock. '… four hours.'

'_What_ are we to do for _four hours_, alone in a hotel room?' She smiled wickedly and shrugged, her wildly curling hair framing her face, her eyes never leaving his face. Nigel brushed his finger languidly against Farrah's smooth olive skin, and followed the neckline of her bodice deeper, running his hands, finally, to rest on either side of her hourglass waist.

'_I_ say we have some fun.' Sitting up, her lips met his gently, teasing him. She pulled back, and wriggled out of his grasp, moving to stand in front of him. 'I've been _dying _to get out of this thing_ all night_,' she whispered, bending over so her words tickled his neck. She pulled the straps down, and in one swift movement, stood before him in nothing but a lacy corset-and-boy shorts set, her stilettos, and a wicked smile.

'Love, you look _fabulous_…'

* * *

They arrived at the airport, five hours later, exhausted and content. 

'Thank heavens for first class,' Farrah muttered amusedly, watching Nigel stretch his legs out before him on the plane. 'If we had to fit you into coach, your _legs_ would take up two seats alone!'

'They would not. They would take up three, the way they cramp the seats together. I should know – it is how I got here in the first place on a student's salary. Should've _seen_ me – I was almost bent in half.'

'There's quite a bit of time until takeoff, ma'am,' a stewardess said in a gentle British coo. 'Champagne?'

'Water?' Farrah countered with a smile.

'Evian?'

'Dasani?'

'Of course. And for you sir?'

'Could I get a cup of tea, please?'

'Of course – green, Orange Pekoe, or Earl Grey?'

'Couldn't get a London Fog, could I?'

'Straight away, sir.' And with that she strode majestically away.

'London Fog?' Farrah asked, tilting her head to rest on Nigel's shoulder.

'Earl Grey with steamed milk and sugar,' he told her, touching the top of her head with his lips. 'You should try it.'

'I think I might've had it before, actually… maybe I will. I mean, after this darn Boston weather I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to get something warm in me.' She gestured out the window to where it had begun to rain.

'Not,' Nigel hissed in her ear, 'that you've not had anything warm in you lately.'

Farrah's body flushed profusely, and he heard her heart speed. 'No mile high club, thank y-'

'Your drink, sir – and ma'am I took the liberty of preparing one for you as well.' The stewardess had slid up to them again and was resting their drinks on a small table situated before them.

'Thank you,' Farrah nodded, smiling beneath her blush.

'Are you alright, ma'am? First time flying?'

She blushed deeper, and her eyes flitted over to Nigel, who was attempting to contain a laugh. 'She's fine,' Nigel told her, pinching Farrah's chin. 'She's, ah… she's pregnant, that's all.' Farrah jumped in her seat, and smacked Nigel's hand playfully.

'Oh! Congratulations! And me bringing you tea – isn't caffeine bad for the baby?'

'Once in a while is alright,' Nigel told her as Farrah subtly slipped one of her rings onto her left hand.

'Are you -?'

'Oh, yes.' He smiled jovially, and kissed Farrah's hand (which now bore a silver ring with two small diamonds and a pearl). 'We're terribly excited.'

'Well, congratulations to both of you. If there's anything I can get you, please, let me know.' She offered one last smile, and left then, Farrah glaring daggers at Nigel.

'_Pregnant?_' she whispered frantically, barely contained.

'Well, would you have rather told her you were turned on?' he muttered in her ear, giving a quick peck to the base of her neck.

'I would've rather said I was excited to get back home… or in love… or I was _fine_. But _pregnant_?'

'Well… now we'll get exceptional service because we're new parents.'

'We're in first class. We'd get exceptional service _anyways. _And we're _not _new parents!'

'So imagine how much _more_ exceptional we'll have.' He put his arms around her and held her close. 'Would you rather me call her back and tell her the truth?'

'I – that's not…' She stopped, shook her head, and sighed. 'Well…'

'That's my girl.'

* * *

Nigel had been right – their flight was the cushiest either had ever experienced. Every little while, the flight attendant would come over to ensure they were comfortable. At one point, Farrah was sure the woman was flirting with Nigel so he would remember her when the time came that Farrah was fat from the pregnancy. 

'I _swear_ she was hitting on you!' she laughed, poking him gently in the stomach as they strode out into Heathrow airport. 'She's getting ready to move in on you when I'm no longer attractive enough to be a trophy wife!'

'Ah, but you'll always be attractive enough to be a trophy wife! The question remains whether or not I'll ever be rich enough to _have _a trophy wife.'

'You're older than me… that's probably why she thinks that's what I am – your little American tart whom you've brought back to England to culture and get ready to bring another little half-bread English lord into the world.'

'Always remember – lie back and think of England.' He glanced out the window and stopped, looking out over the tarmac to his homeland – where, he noticed, it was drizzling – just like the day he had left.

'But England's not _half _as attractive as you.' She whispered the last bit, her hot breath tickling his throat. She smiled at his non responsiveness, and rested her head on his side, (not being tall enough to reach his shoulder). Wrapping her arms around his hips, she asked quietly, 'How's it to be home?' giving his waist a gentle squeeze.

His heart swelled with remembrance at the place he had left – deserted, really – and thought of all the good times he had had in the heart of London as a boy, clubbing and partying, exploring and learning. 'Good… it's… it's good.' He wrapped his arm around her shoulder again and kissed her temple briefly. 'It's weird, being back. Since I've left, it's almost felt like I don't know anything about the old girl anymore – that's why I've not come back… but… but look out the window. It was just like this when I left – you know, raining. It's as if I've only been gone a few minutes.'

'You can take the Brit out of Britain, but not Britain out of the Brit.'

'_God Save the Queen_ and all that.'

'Amen,' she laughed with a sigh as her arms tightened their hold and she pressed her lips briefly to the soft cotton of his sweater; the only part of him she could reach. 'Amen… and welcome home.'

* * *

'So, here's my humble abode. It's not Buckingham, but I _think_ you _can_ see it from the attic if you squint.' 

'Wow…' Even just walking thought the door, Nigel could see how beautifully decorated the house was. Original pieces of artwork graced the walls, everything coordinated to bring them to life. Her style seemed to describe every essence her – classic pieces with shots of modern colouring; conservative, with little flares of passion. A regular décor critic he was. 'So, my love,' he told her as she tipped their chauffer, 'local time is four pm; our body clocks are on eleven. What say we head out for tea – or, lunch, as it were?'

She glanced into the living room where the answering machine was blinking impatiently up at her – and dropped her cell phone beside it. Picking up a large red umbrella from a hook beside the door, she linked her arm through his and said jovially, 'I'm ready – let's go.'

* * *

They walked through London for hours – well past the time the sun fell behind the London Eye, and the streets were derelict but for the odd Thursday night clubbers and graveyard shifters. As they walked, they pointed out the bits of the city which they most frequented – some of which were the same; some which had never been there in Nigel's time; some which had opened in time for Farrah. Occasionally they would pass a small café with live performances, and they would sneak in to listen. One featured a Canadian jazz artist whom Farrah loved. They sat for almost an hour sipping honest to goodness English tea – Nigel with honest to goodness English ale – 'They don't make it like this in the ol' U.S of A!' – murmuring in lovers' tones. When they left, Farrah with a signed CD in her oversized coat, the streets were almost completely, blessedly empty; the only sounds were of their echoing laughter, and the clicking of Farrah's heels. 

'Oh, this _has _been the loveliest night, hasn't it?' Farrah sighed as she skipped along, almost childishly, beside Nigel's liquid steps. 'Oh, Nigel, thank you for coming with me!' She reached her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a long, romantic kiss beneath an antique-looking streetlamp. 'I do so love it here.' She twirled like a ballerina, holding one of Nigel's hands in her own as she spun.

Nigel watched her dance for a moment, her hair flying out around her, her eyes dancing with a youthful exuberance. Once she stopped, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair. 'I do love you so, Farrah, my dear,' Nigel breathed into her hair, holding her close. 'I wonder, though, if we couldn't take some time to be serious.'

She looked up into his eyes, and tilted her head in that way she had, encompassing everything about her into one small movement. 'Serious?'

'Well – not _serious_. I'm just curious about something…' He paused, and smiled when her eyebrows rose in expectation. He touched the tip of his nose to hers and said, 'Well, about the future.'

'Ah! The _future_…' she smiled, eyes shining.

'Yeah. I mean – I'm here, and well… I love you, Farrah. I would go to the ends of the ocean for you.' Nigel smiled, and she smiled back, uncertainly now, and tilted her head the other way. He didn't need her to tell him – he could see how much she loved him by the sparkle in her eyes. 'It's been an amazing few weeks, luv. I mean – after everything that's happened it's like… it's like I know you, everything about you. Your strengths, weaknesses, and everything in between. But I _don't _know your plans for the future. Not all of them, anyways.'

'Ask me anything, Nigel.'

'Well, what're your views on children?'

She smiled, and said, 'Two. Boy and a girl, hopefully.'

'Marriage?'

'Yeah, of course.'

'To me?'

Not realizing what he had said, it took her a few moments for her mind to comprehend the question. '… excuse me?'

Making his decision, he knelt before her, and from his pocket pulled out the small velvet ring box. He clipped it open, and looked deep into her eyes. 'I love you more than I've ever loved another, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, my love. Will you, Farrah Edwards, do me the honour of being my wife?'

* * *

A/N Awwwwww such a perfect evening coming to such a perfect end!... but _I _didn't yet hear an acceptance, did you? Ahh, you'll have to wait and see, I suppose... 

Jacinta 3

PS I positively love feedback. ; )


	24. Chapter 24

A/N okay so it's brief, but I hate cliffhangars. Happy Holidays. jm.

* * *

'Nigel, I…' Nigel knelt with baited breath and watched Farrah's eyes glaze over. And even years later he would say how his heart stopped beating, and he could've declared himself legally dead, when he saw her dazzling smile, and heard her say the six most beautiful words he would ever hear in his life – until the day she said _I do_. 'Yes. Yes! A thousand times _yes!_'

He pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. When it was safely nestled on her left hand, he kissed it softly, and then stood to lift her off her feet, twirling her round and round, kissing her everywhere, until they were both laughing excitedly. When he finally let her feet touch the ground, he bent down to capture her lips again in his. 'Oh, how I love you, my sweet, sweet girl.'

She was silent a moment, and when she spoke again she was resigned; quiet. 'Boston.'

'What?'

'I want to live in Boston.' Her words were simple and sincere.

'But… but why?'

'Because _you _want to live in Boston. It shouldn't take long for me to move all my things.'

'Would you really? What about the firm? Your friends -?'

'The firm?' she scoffed. 'They've been underpaying me for _years_. And friends? The only real friends I have lives in a small town in Ontario with three children and her high school sweetheart, and in Boston. I'll be closer to her there than I'd ever be here.'

'Are you sure?'

'Am I right?'

'Well, yes, but…' He could just imagine the look on the morgue staffs' faces when they returned, engaged. Looking for a home in the city. His city. 'Are you sure?'

She smiled. 'There's only one other thing I've ever been this sure about. And he's standing right in front of me.'

* * *

_Epilogue_

'Just a little more, Farrah, love. A little more and you're there…!' Face pale, Nigel squeezed her hand as she screamed.

'And… we're out! Congratulations – it's a boy!' After cleaning and swaddling the infant in a soft blanket, the doctor handed him to Nigel.

'Let me see,' Farrah said tiredly, eyes shining towards her husband and child. 'Oh, Nigel, he's beautiful… he's got your nose!'

'Poor little blighter,' he laughed gently, stepping carefully to place the baby in her arms. 'But he has your eyes.'

She blushed and smiled down at the bundle in her arms. 'He's darling, isn't he, Nigel?'

'Yes, he is.' Stunned with disbelief, Nigel ran his fingers through his hair, careful not to catch the wedding band in the strands. 'He's beautiful. _You're_ beautiful… so _this _is why people practice medicine!'

'Go fetch everyone. I want them to meet him.'

A few moments later, death was reunited with birth as the morgue staff crammed themselves into the small single room. Lily gushed with adoration; Jordan and Garrett clapped Nigel on the back; Bug looked nervous, because he thought kids didn't like him. It wasn't until Farrah was practically dozing that the group began to thin and finally disappear to leave the little family alone for the first time since before the Farrah went into labour.

Farrah chuckled and sighed contentedly, eyelids drooping. 'I want to watch him sleep, but I don't think I could stay away myself. '

Beaming with pride, Nigel sat on the side of the bed. 'You're tired, love. How 'bout I watch you both sleep?'

'But you've been up longer than I have.'

'I couldn't sleep if they sedated me. Besides, I'm not the one who did all the work – I had the easy job… and that was nine months ago.'

'Alright, Nigel. But promise me you'll get _some_ sleep?'

'We'll see about that. Good night, my dear.'

She smiled up at him in response. Glancing out the window where the sun was rising over the city, she replied, 'Good morning, Nigel…' And, looking back down into the little blue bundle in her arms, she whispered, 'Good morning, Arthur Franklin Townsend...'


End file.
